


I Would Bleed the Colors of the Evening Stars

by peanutbutterapple



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Mutual Pining, Some angst, blinded by love, fake boyfriends, idiot boys in love, some tears, valentine's day au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3537593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peanutbutterapple/pseuds/peanutbutterapple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis needs a fake boyfriend and Harry wants to know why he doesn't pick him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Would Bleed the Colors of the Evening Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be done before Valentine's Day, oops. Good thing we celebrate fluff all year round :)

To be fair, Louis was far too hungover and simply _not in the mood_ when Niall’s ex-boyfriend decided to ask him out.

He wouldn’t even have gone to class at all that day if Harry hadn’t pestered him so much that morning, claiming that he wasn’t going to let his birthday celebrations that past weekend cause the downfall of Louis’ university education.

“Please, Harold,” Louis had grumbled over the mug of tea Harry had shoved into his hands, phone jingling on his bed sheets. Harry at least had the mercy to wake Louis up with a song from his favorite band. _‘My favorite song is the color of your eyes...blue as the sea, a million summer skies.’_ A gentle tune by the Moon Minders, and anyone who was anything to Louis knew how much he loved the Moon Minders. Louis took a delicate sip from his tea. “Your birthday wasn’t _that_ fabulous.”

Harry had smirked at him. Louis’ hangover obviously told him otherwise, but he only said, “Come on, we’ll walk to campus together after you’re finished with your tea.”

Which, admittedly, had been nice, despite the rolling nausea that plagued Louis the entire way. They trudged out of their flat into the wet February air of late morning. Water dripped along brick walls and sunlight snuck through dusty clouds, remnants of melting snow glittering on the sidewalks. A quiet sleepiness hung in the air, and Harry lingered close, elbows bumping, familiar in a way Louis had been missing lately.

If Louis was honest, Harry’s birthday _had_ been fabulous. He and the lads had thrown him a party that Louis only remembered in a haze of loud music, Liam laughing beer out of his nose, Niall challenging anyone who was brave enough to face him in a drinking game and Zayn losing, dancing on top of their wine stained couch, and a wide, glassy smile on Harry’s face, yellow streamers tangled in unruly curls Louis unknotted himself at the end of the night.

It was, probably, worth the pounding in Louis’ skull this morning, and at least Harry seemed to be in a chipper mood, a pleasant smile on his lips as they blended with the masses of students rushing to their morning classes.

They made it outside Louis’ building before Harry said, “Well, I’ve got to go meet Jeff before I got to class, but I’ll see you later, right?”

All the loveliness of the morning drained from Louis at Harry’s words, and he felt himself nod automatically. “Right, of course. We live in the same flat, don’t we?”

Harry grinned and squeezed Louis’ arm. “That we do. Remember to drink lots of water for that hangover, and here-” He slung his bag from his back and reached inside, rummaging until he pulled out a perfectly ripe banana. “This’ll help, trust me.” He winked and handed it to Louis, and then he was gone.

Louis was left, students running around him to get to class, with a banana, a headache, and a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Louis wouldn’t even have felt the need to cherish mornings like these with Harry if it wasn’t for bloody _Jeff_. _Jeff,_ Harry’s American exchange friend, who’d arrived last September and immediately gotten friendly with Harry in their media class. _Jeff_ , who Harry took home for Christmas, who he spent half off his time with, who stole the role of Harry’s best friend right out from under Louis’ nose.

Louis knew he should have stayed in bed that morning. Then he wouldn’t have to know that Harry was off frolicking with Jeff while Louis wiled away in class. Not that he wouldn’t have been able to guess that anyhow, since that was where Harry usually was these days.

“Louis?”

Louis blinked, thoughts broken, turning to the source of the sound and- Jesus fuckingChrist, he _really_ should have stayed in bed.

Looking back at him, a smile cocked in his pretty lips, was Drew, Niall’s scum-of-the-earth ex-boyfriend Drew, who Louis had not missed for a minute since Niall kicked him to the curb. A blessed day, that had been.

“Hi,” Louis said, pointedly not returning his smile. He wasn’t in the mood to give any pretenses of past friendship. His head gave a painful throb just at the sight of him, and he had no patience for idle chit chat right now.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Drew said, smiling placidly.

“Yup,” Louis said. “That’s true, but, you know, classes to go to, other people to see.” _Better_ people to see, he thought as he attempted to walk around him. The crowds were thinning; class would start soon and he didn’t want to be stuck in the front row.

“Wait, Louis.” Drew grabbed his arm, and Louis froze. He turned, very slowly, to look at him. He could feel his blood beginning to boil under his skin, because Drew did _not_ just touch him.

The thing was, Drew was pretty. He was very, very pretty, and no one could let it be said that Niall didn’t have uncommonly superb taste in beautiful men. It just turned out that this particular pretty man happened to be an enormous sack of shit.

He’d been fine at first, nice and funny and he seemed to make Niall happy, which was the most important thing- that is, until he started skipping out on dates, cancelling plans, and hitting on the other guys when Niall wasn’t around. It had culminated, finally, when one night he’d drunkenly cornered Louis, and if Zayn hadn’t come out of nowhere and punched him first, Louis would have broken that pretty little nose himself.

It was telling that it hardly came as a surprise to any of them, least of all Niall, who had only shrugged a little sadly when Louis asked him how he was feeling about it. So instead of talking any more about the guy, the boys had all crowded into Liam and Niall’s flat and had a movie marathon of very non-romantic films. With ice cream. And alcohol. Mixed together. Louis tried not to remember it as a celebration.

“Yes, Drew?” Louis’ voice was on the sharp edge of polite.

Drew looked at him as if considering something. Finally, he said, “Come on, Louis, don’t act like you never thought of it.”

Louis blinked. What the fuck?

Drew’s lips twitched into a smile. “You know…” His eyes flickered to Louis’ lips.

“What are you talking about?” Louis asked. What was this? Was Louis supposed to swoon? Claim the past was a mistake? He’d sooner kick Drew in the balls.

“You definitely would have kissed me that night,” Drew said, voice sweet and face close, and Louis got an ugly flashback to that moment in his kitchen at the end of the previous semester. Louis would admit- yes, it might have been hot, if Drew wasn’t such douche. Louis refused to think about it.

And what could Louis say? He had a thing for nice guys. Annoyingly so. But that was a topic for a different time.

Louis laughed. “In your fucking dreams.”

Drew let him go, but didn’t back away. “Louis, I’m not trying to be a jerk.”

Louis laughed again. “Yeah? Is that what you said to Niall, too?”

Drew grew quiet and his eyes darkened slightly. Louis crossed his arms, looking at him carefully. “What do you want?”

Drew slid his hands into his pockets. “Look, Louis, I didn’t mean…” he licked his lips. “It was a mistake, you know, what happened with Niall. I’ve…always kind of liked you, to be honest.”

Louis narrowed his eyes, growing increasingly wary. Was this how he got Niall? “What are you trying to say?”

Drew shrugged. “I spotted you and I thought…well, I’m on the committee for the Valentine Jam, you know the Valentine Jam?”

Of course Louis knew what the Valentine Jam was, having personally attended it the previous year. It was a casual social held in the student union, and he and Harry had decided to go as a joke last year, just to see how lame it would be, expecting to find paper hearts hanging from the ceiling and couples slow dancing in glitter.

As it turned out, it was nothing like that at all, and both of them got enormously drunk off of free champagne and half-price drinks at the uni bar, sang several rounds of karaoke, and left a number of loud voicemails in Liam’s inbox. They _may_ have shared a glittery slow dance like the ones they’d been mocking, and Harry _might_ have walked Louis back to his flat afterward and _maybe_ left a kiss on Louis’ cheek that neither of them trusted their memories well enough to mention afterward, but- it was all in good fun. And if it was Louis’ best Valentine’s Day, he’d never told Harry that.

Maybe he should have, Louis thought distantly. The previous year had been a whirlwind of friendship for them, after they’d met at the beginning of the year. They’d both gone to the first meeting of the cooking club, Harry for the art of cooking, Louis because he happened to be hungry and saw the sign on the door. When the meeting couldn’t even yield enough cookies to feed everyone, Louis had nudged the cute boy next to him – Harry – and motioned for the door. Surprisingly, Harry had grinned and followed him out before the meeting had even ended, and they got burgers at the first pub they came upon. Instead of cooking meetings, they began to opt for HarryandLouis meetings instead.

Meetings that evolved into more burger outings, FIFA tournaments, club nights with the lads, a beautiful week at Harry’s dad’s bungalow, those nights they would sleep over each other’s flats when it got too late, more time witheach other than without, and sharing their own flat for their second year of uni. Their flat had been a perfect, beautiful idea that had been lovely until _Jeff_ arrived and Louis wasn’t sure if Harry would rather be living with him now, since Louis found himself going to sleep in an empty flat more often than not these days.  

The honeymoon phase of friendship was over, and now Louis was stuck with these pesky feelings that just wouldn’t go away.

Which- right. Yes, he did know what the Valentine Jam was. He looked at Drew again. “Yeah, what about it?”

Drew gave him a smile that Louis was sure would have charmed anyone else. “Want to come with me?”

Louis stared. “Are you- are you serious?”

Drew nodded.  

“You do know that Niall is one of my best friends, right?” Louis said, because he wanted to make sure. Because Drew couldn’t be _nearly_ this dense.

“Yeah, but Louis, that’s been over for a while and…” he shrugged. “It’d be fun, I think. You’ve always been so fit, and funny.”  

Louis couldn’t believe his ears. Well, yes he could, he was obviously fit, and fucking hilarious. But was Drew _really_ that much of a prick? He didn’t think it was possible for him to continually astound him like this.

“Have you really got anything else to do that night?” Drew said, and- _hell_ no.

Louis could take the silly sweet talk, but a jab at his love life? Which Louis could have _on fire_ this Valentine’s Day, if he so chose?

Suddenly, he found himself choosing fire.

“Yes, yes I do, as a matter of fact,” Louis said hotly. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I have a boyfriend now, and he’s fucking _fit_ , and doesn’t fuck over my friends.”

Drew looked at him for a long moment. “I don’t believe you.”

Louis shrugged. “Maybe we’ll stop by your little jam. We’ll see.”  

Drew raised an eyebrow, cocked his head to the side. “Sure, I’d love to meet him.”

“Yeah, I bet you would,” Louis muttered. “Now if you’ll kindly fuck off, I have places to be.”

“You’re kind of an ass, you know that?” Drew said.

“Yup,” Louis said. “And you’re not getting any of it.”

Drew’s scowl deepened. “Sure, Lou. See you at the Jam- with your boyfriend, I guess.”

I guess? What did he mean by _I guess?_ Before Louis could say anything else, Drew was walking off, and the blood beneath Louis’ skin boiled so hot his hands were shaking.

What. The fuck.

He knew he shouldn’t have let Harry drag him out of bed this morning.

Without a second thought, he turned around and started walking back to his flat. Fuck education. Fuck Drew.

What he _needed_ was a fucking fit boyfriend.

Fuck.

 

*

 

It really was a beautiful day, Harry thought to himself as he skipped off to the other side of campus. He’d had a wonderful birthday, a lovely walk with Louis this morning, and hopefully Jeff would have good news about the tickets.

Harry spotted him leaning on the wall outside the media building. The wide grin that greeted him was all he needed to know.

“You got them?” Harry asked, greeting Jeff with a customary fist bump. His heart thudded with anticipation as he waited for an answer. If Jeff was able to get these tickets Harry would build him a shrine, name his firstborn child after him, and get Zayn to paint a portrait of him and hang it in the Louvre.

“Of course,” Jeff said easily. “I told you, my dad has connections. He had someone mail them this morning, they’ll be here in a week.”

Harry breathed, relief and excitement swelling in his chest. He could feel himself beaming. “I love you.”

Jeff laughed and knocked him on the shoulder. “Save it for Tomlinson, man.”

Yes, save it for Louis- Louis, who he was going to woo so hard this Valentine’s Day he won’t know what hit him. Harry hoped. God, he really, really hoped.

“Thank you,” Harry said. “And thank your dad, please. How much do I owe him?”

Jeff waved a hand. “It’s on us.” He gave Harry a lilted smile. “That’s what you get for making friends in high places.”

Harry frowned. “You know that’s not why-”

Jeff cut him off. “I know, Harry. From the moment I met you, I could tell you were too pure to ever use me.” He winked. “I’ve got experience reading people like that.”

Well, it wasn’t as if Harry had _known_ that Jeff’s family worked in the highest echelon of the music industry when he’d randomly sat down next to him on the first day of media class. Not that it would have really mattered if he had. Jeff was just Jeff, his cool American friend. If he _offered_ to get Harry tickets to Louis’ favorite band when Harry absently mentioned how amazing would be to give Louis something like that for Valentine’s Day, well. Harry wasn’t going to complain.

Still, Harry felt himself scowl at Jeff’s words. “I’m not _pure-”_

“Okay, fine, you’re dangerous enough to sneak into a petting zoo at three in the morning because Louis dared you,” Jeff said, “and steal a feather from one of the roosters to prove it. I’ve seen it twice, heard the story three times. You are downright _bad_ , my friend.”

“Heeey,” Harry said, pouting.

“I know,” Jeff said, pushing himself up from the wall. “Come on, Hersh, we need to get to class. But hey, now you can begin phase two of your big Valentine plan.”

Right. Because now that Harry had tickets to the Moon Minders, Louis’ all-time favorite band, it meant it _had_ to go through with his plan. Which meant actually asking Louis out. Which. Oh god.

“Don’t _worry_ ,” Jeff said, patting him on the back. “Worrying is the reason the two of you haven’t gotten anywhere sooner. Drives me insane.”

Harry gave a wary smile. Jeff was right, of course. So was every other person who had ever seen straight through him and his feelings for Louis.

It’d be _fine._ It’d be better than fine. Harry might just get an amazing date out of this. With the most amazing boy. His favorite boy. _Louis_. His heart swelled at the thought, and so did his grin.

“There ya go,” Jeff said, cuffing him on the shoulder.

It was going to be _great_ , Harry decided as he followed Jeff to class.

 

*

 

Louis knew he should deal with his situation in a calm and dignified manner, but the moment he heard the tell-tale creak of their flat door opening it was as if someone had flipped his rant switch on, and he didn’t even care if Jeff came in trailing behind Harry.

“And then, can you believe it, the fucking prick _asked me to go with him_.”

Harry’s hand stilled over the bottle of juice he was grabbing from the fridge. “What?” he said.

“I _know_ , the audacity, right? Like Niall isn’t one of my best mates and he’s not a fucking cheating scumbag,” Louis said. He paused to take a breath, hands on his hips.

Harry blinked. “So you said no, right?”

Jeff kicked him in the shin. “Have you heard a word he’s said?”

Louis scowled. At least Harry’s new boyfriend had been listening. “Of course I said no, Harold. But now I need…” His shoulders dropped as angry tension seeped away. “I told him I have a super fit boyfriend who’s coming as my date.”

Harry drew his eyebrows together, looking at him. “But you haven’t got a super fit boyfriend.”

Louis set his jaw. “I know.”  

“I think what Louis’ saying, Harry,” Jeff said, “is that he needs a boyfriend.”

Been saying it for years, really. But that wasn’t the point right now. Also, thank you Jeff for making him sound impossibly more desperate.

Harry met Louis’ eyes again. “What are you going to do, then?”

Louis dropped into the chair beside him, ignoring the dangerous creak of the old wood. “Find a boyfriend? I don’t know.” He paused. “Maybe I’ll ask someone to stand in. Know any fit guys? Jeff? Know any other exotic Americans around here?”

Jeff scratched his chin, looking at Harry. “Can’t think of any Americans.” He looked at Louis. “I’m glad you find me exotic, though.” He grinned.

Exotic enough to capture Harry’s attention, certainly. Louis sighed. “Well, my Valentine’s Day is fucked.” Not that he’d expected to have any other plans, or had really given much thought to Valentine’s Day before this morning. But still. You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.

Harry looked at him, eyes wide. “Well, you never know, right?”

He sounded so earnest all of the sudden that Louis felt his frazzled heart shift and soften ever so slightly. Trust Harry to always hope the best for him. He spared him a smile. “I appreciate your optimism, Haz, truly. Care to be my fake boyfriend, then?”

Harry began to blink rapidly, visibly stiffening. “I- I- well- I mean-”

Louis hadn’t meant to tack on that question, but it wasn’t until it slipped off his tongue that he realized he maybe, sort of, really kind of meant it. This was the type of thing and he and Harry would have done in the blink of an eye the year before. It’d be a laugh, a hilarious way to get back at an idiot and avenge Niall, maybe engage in some harmless flirting, a silly kiss or two. Like they’d done at the Valentine Jam the year before.

Except now the difference was that Louis wasn’t quite laughing, because now he was wholly and painfully aware that if he wanted anyone to be his boyfriend, even a fake one, it’d be Harry every time. Something clenched in his chest as Harry continued to sputter.

Jeff’s laugh broke through the sudden tension. “Hersh may just have a _real_ Valentine’s Day surprise.”

And then he actually _winked_ at Louis, and Louis’ heart sunk to the floor like a stone.

“Oh,” Louis heard himself say, because if that stupid nickname (Hersh? What the hell was _that_?) wasn’t enough, the implication that Harry had a Valentine’s surprise waiting for him while Louis was left to fuck around with some jerk at a stupid dance was- well, far more than sobering. Louis swallowed and looked away, the realization that he might not have been so wrong about Harry and Jeff materializing in poisonous disappointment.

So Jeff had something _real_ in store for Harry. Better than anything Louis could do, apparently.  

Louis bit his lip and stood up, really, _really_ not in the mood to hang around these two any longer.

“Lou?” Harry said, eyes following him, a crease forming between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I don’t know, I’m tired of thinking about this.” Louis waved a hand, avoiding their eyes, because a concerned Harry was a sweet Harry and he didn’t really want that right now, not when Jeff had beat him in a game he should have been playing harder.

Valentine’s Day was stupid, anyway, and so was Jeff, and so was Drew, and so was everything. It was only the second of February, and Louis was ready for March.

 

*

 

Harry looked at Jeff when he heard Louis’ bedroom door shut with a soft _click_ down the hallway. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Harry.” Jeff looked at him. “The man just asked you to be his _boyfriend.”_

“Fake boyfriend,” Harry said carefully, scratching a rip into paper wrapping around his juice bottle.

Jeff shook his head. “No. Harry. You need to ask him out.”

“I’m going to.” Harry bit his lip.

“No. Ask him out, like, _now_ ,” Jeff said. “Fuck, ask him to that Valentine Jam thing, the concert’s not until the next weekend. You can still take him out to dinner beforehand. And fuck with that Drew guy. Kill three birds with one stone.”

Admittedly, messing with Niall’s ex-boyfriend was not part of Harry’s grand plan of romance for Valentine’s Day, but Louis always managed to surprise him.  Besides, the Valentine Jam was _their_ thing, and the thought of Louis asking anyone else to go with him, even as a ‘fake date,’ twisted the contents of Harry’s stomach. Sure, he may have been fairly drunk, but that sloppy kiss he’d planted on Louis’ cheek _meant_ something, and by the smile that stretched across Louis’ face, eyes glossy and cheeks flushed, Harry knew it had meant something to him, too.

And maybe this time, when they danced, Harry could tuck his head into the curve of Louis’ neck like he’d so wanted to last year. Could tell him just how very beautiful he was under the low lights of the uni bar, how very beautiful he was _always_. Harry’s heart jumped at the thought. Jeff was right.

Louis needed a boyfriend, and Harry wanted to be that boyfriend. It was almost perfect.  

 

*

 

Everything was shit, Louis decided.

“You know,” Zayn said, glancing up at him from his canvas, “you really don’t have to go at all.”

Louis’ eyes followed the motions of Zayn’s pencil, gliding across the white fabric as his words sunk into Louis’ brain. Louis had found him in the paint room in the art building, counters blotched with greens and purples and reds and walls lined with half-finished paintings. It all smelled strongly of chemicals, a strangely comforting scent that Louis had come to associate with Zayn.

“I know, but,” Louis said, crossing his arms, “I need to get back at that fucker.”

Zayn paused, an amused smile on his lips. “Normally I might object, but if there was one person I’d love to see you wreak havoc on…”

Louis grinned, because if there was anyone he could have on his side for this, it was Zayn. Zayn, more than any of them, had always seemed to harbor a seething dislike for Drew, even before it was apparent that Drew was a raging shithead.  It was that artistic intuition, Niall had claimed for him later, to which Zayn had given a vague shrug and sheepish smile.

A sudden thought occurred to Louis.

“Zayn,” he said, leaning forward on his stool. “You should come with me.”

Zayn’s pencil paused mid stroke. “What?”

“Yeah,” Louis said. “Zayn, it’d be _perfect._ ”

It would be. Zayn wasn’t normally a violent person; he preferred his paints and his peace and his quiet. But as much as Zayn had always seemed to hate Drew, Drew had always loathed him right back. It was a mutual climate of dislike that had culminated into that night in the kitchen, when Zayn had punched him right smack in his pretty little face.

Frankly, Louis thought it was beautiful, and it would be a shame to waste such a passion in Zayn.

Zayn shook his head. “I don’t think so, Lou.”

“Why not?” Louis said. “You hate him, and he hates you. Can you imagine the look on his face when he sees _you’re_ my boyfriend? He’ll have a fit.”  

Zayn bit his lip.

Louis placed a hand on Zayn’s knee. “Do it for Niall, Zayn. Help me avenge him.”

Zayn snorted. “We’re not superheroes, Lou.”

Louis sat back again. “It’d be sick if we were. Think of the look that’d be on his face _then_ , if he saw me flying, or with, like, laser vision.” He paused. “You’d probably read minds, I bet.”

Zayn’s expression darkened. “I don’t think I’d want to read his mind.”

Louis sighed. He paused. “ _Please_ Zayn? Please please please-”

Zayn dipped the end of his pencil in a blot of paint and poked Louis in the face. Louis blinked, bringing his hand to his cheek and pulling away with his finger glistening green. “What the fuck?”

“Shut up,” Zayn turned back to his canvas. “Why don’t you just ask Harry?”

Louis frowned. “Why should I ask Harry? He’ll be on a date with fucking _Jeff_ anyway.”

Zayn gave him a funny look. “Why would you think that?”

“Um, because he’s with the guy all the fucking time,” Louis said. He tried to ignore the way his stomach clenched at the thought. It had been three days since Jeff had hinted at his _surprise plan_ , and fuck if Louis wasn’t getting any better at dealing with it.

“He’s not going to be on a date with Jeff, Lou,” Zayn said.

It was deliciously tempting to believe him, to give into the surety in Zayn’s voice, but Louis pushed the thought away. He didn’t want to talk any more about Harry. “Look, Zayn, I’m asking _you._ It’s an honor, really.”

“Wow, should I change my Facebook status already?”

Louis kicked him in the shin. “Don’t be a wanker.”

“You’re such a little shit.”  

“Does that mean you’ll think about it?”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “How do you know I won’t have Valentine’s plans?”

“Oh? Who with?” Louis raised an eyebrow.

Zayn looked back at his sketch, blinking. “Well, it’s- I _could_.”

Louis patted him on the shoulder. “In a world full of mediocre faces, it’s a crime that yours doesn’t have a Valentine’s date, quite honestly.”

“You’re a shit,” Zayn said again.

“I’m serious.” It was, in fact, probably the most honest thing Louis had said through this whole conversation.

Zayn closed his eyes for a moment, let out a deep breath. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

A wide grin stretched across Louis’ face. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on Zayn’s cheek. “I _love_ you.”

“I said I’ll think about it,” Zayn said carefully. “And none of this kissing in public stuff.”

“Only in seclusion, then.” Louis waggled his eyebrows. Zayn’s expression was dry.

“I’m kidding, kidding,” Louis said, waving a hand. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Well, maybe he’d _dreamed_ of it. But who hadn’t, honestly.

So Zayn was (most likely) going to be his fake boyfriend for the Valentine Jam. Honestly, if his Valentine’s Day _wasn’t_ about bitter revenge, Louis didn’t think the holiday would really be worth it at all.

 

*

 

Maybe Harry was a bit behind on his grand Valentine plans, but tonight was The Night.

“Get the spring rolls, he likes spring rolls,” Niall said, jabbing his finger at the menu in Harry’s hands.

“I know,” Harry said. Of _course_ he knew that, because Louis’ food preferences were on a list of Very Important Things he kept in the safest compartment of his brain. Sadly he didn’t have time to prepare Louis a home cooked meal – picking up Chinese take away on the walk home would have to suffice – but hopefully he would still appreciate the gesture.

Louis had been strangely absent from their flat the last few days, heading to class early and coming home late. Something was up with him, and he’d been slightly off ever since his confrontation with Drew. _Hopefully_ this might prove a satisfactory solution to his problem. _Hopefully_ Louis would open up to him tonight, and _hopefully_ he’d agree to be his Valentine. Harry bit his lip at the  thought.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Niall said, eyeing him closely. They stood outside the little Chinese restaurant, paper menu flapping loosely between Harry’s fingers in the cold breeze.

Harry shrugged. He closed the menu; he knew all of Louis’ favorites anyway.

“You don’t need to be,” Niall said, and yes, Harry knew that, because that’s what Jeff said, and that’s what Liam said as well, and it’s probably what the Queen of England would say about it. But honestly, even if Harry was absolutely certain that Louis felt the same, he’d _still_ be nervous. He still had to put his feelings on the table for Louis to see, right between the fried dumplings and lo mein.

“I’m only human, Niall.” A mere human with the desire to woo Louis Tomlinson, whose perfectly devilish imperfections set his heart aflutter since the moment he set eyes on him in that first meeting for the cooking club.

Niall’s eyes went soft. “Wish I had your determination, mate.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled, about to step into the restaurant, except- wait. He looked back at Niall. “What do you mean?”

“What?”

“Why do you wish you had my determination?” Harry asked curiously.

“Um.” Niall blinked.

“Niall- _who_?” Harry nudged him. “Who do you need determination for?”

Pink blossomed on Niall’s cheeks. “What? No one.”

“ _Niall_ ,” Harry said. “I told you my secret.”

“Hardly a secret, Harry,” Niall said pointedly, but he wouldn’t meet Harry’s eyes. “There’s no one, I was just…no one.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Okay…but if you decide you want to ask ‘no one’ out for Valentine’s Day, you’ve got my vote of confidence.” He winked. Niall rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go order your damn food for Louis,” Niall said, reaching for the door and disappearing inside. Harry shrugged and followed him.

 

*

 

“Lou?” Harry called out as he kicked the door of their flat open. Louis was supposed to be here, he’d texted him. No mysterious disappearance for at least one night.

Harry shuffled into the hallway with the bag of food in his arms. He may gone a bit overboard, but Louis liked so many things and Harry didn’t want to risk anything. Maybe the crab rangoons would put him in right the mood to give Harry a yes.

“Harry?” Louis stepped out of the doorway of his bedroom, clad in a pair of skinnies and a green hoodie that looked like a special kind of sin on him. His hair stuck up several directions of sideways, face soft like he’d recently woken up from a nap. He rubbed at one of his eyes, blinking at Harry, and Harry wanted to put the food down and wrap all his limbs around him and never let got.

“I’ve picked up dinner,” he managed to say instead, nudging the door closed behind him.

Louis suddenly looked more awake, perking up. “What’d you get?”

“Just some Chinese,” Harry said, moving toward the kitchen, Louis following close behind.

“Just some Chinese?” Louis said, mouth falling open as Harry began to empty the bag. “Did you buy half the restaurant? Is someone else coming over? Jeff?”

“No.” Harry looked up. “Just wanted to get your favorites.”

A slow smile came over Louis’ face by degrees. “Aw, H, you shouldn’t have. I’m already your flatmate, you don’t have to _woo_ me.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You love to be wooed.” But was he really that obvious? _Should_ he be obvious? Louis _did_ seem pleased. Maybe this was a good omen for the rest of this conversation. Maybe he actually hadn’t needed to spend the extra eight pounds on orange shrimp.

“You know me too well, Harold.” Louis opened the fridge to grab some drinks.

“Of course I do,” Harry said automatically, eyes following the back of his head.  

Louis looked back up. “Course,” he agreed, walking back over to the table. He looked from all the food up to Harry, a vague look of befuddled amusement on his face. “What’s all this for, Harry?” he finally said.

Perhaps it was unfair, but Harry felt just the tiniest bit offended. “Why does it have to be for something?” he said. “Why can’t I just do something nice for my best friend?”

Something nice, like buy his best friend fifty quid worth of Chinese food. And acquire tickets to an exorbitantly expensive, sold out concert. In the name of _love._

“I guess you can,” Louis said slowly, a soft, quiet smile growing on his face. “Thanks.”

It was the kind of smile that made Harry’s kneecaps turn to goo. He looked back down, fingers fumbling over the container of garlic chicken.

“I mean,” Louis went on after the smallest pause, slipping into his chair, “I was kind of thinking Jeff was starting to beat me out for a bit there, but.” He shrugged, leaving it with a wayward chuckle.

Harry looked back up at Louis.  

“What?” Harry said, blinking at him. “Louis…that’s absurd. I mean, Jeff’s a good friend, yeah, but you’re my _best_ friend. Like…you’re my favorite.”

Louis stared at him for a fraction of a second, and then his shoulders relaxed, just enough that Harry noticed, and he looked away, biting his lips on the edge of a smile like he didn’t want Harry to see. It made Harry wanted to tell him how important he was forever, for always, every single day.

Harry could feel himself treading dangerously near a heart-wrenching proclamation of his deepest love. He needed to focus. He didn’t want to scare Louis off by spewing out ungraceful sonnets over teriyaki sticks and pork fried rice.  

 _Take it slow, Harry_ , he told himself as he grabbed a fork. Nerves were mounting in his stomach, and he took a deep breath. _Slow._

 

*

 

It was all still a bit puzzling, but Louis had a free buffet of all his favorites on the table in front of him and the knowledge that he was Harry’s favorite sat in his head like a lottery prize, so he figured he’d let it rest for now.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Harry?” he asked, looking up from his second plate. Harry was barely through his first.

Harry stuck a piece of chicken in his mouth. “I’m eating.”

Louis pointed his fork at him. “You know Niall will come over and clean out our fridge of everything we don’t finish, which is as good as throwing it straight into the trash as far as I’m concerned. So eat up, Harold.”

Harry smiled, amusement dancing in his eyes. “First you fight his ex-boyfriend to protect his honor, then you call him a trashcan. I’m getting mixed signals, Lou.”

“It’s called _true friendship_ ,” Louis said, raising his chin. “I’d rather he eat all our leftovers out of his love of eating large amounts of food, not because he’s sad over his wanker of an ex. I’m looking out for him, is what I’m doing.”

“You know,” Harry said slowly, voice thoughtful. “I was talking to him today, I think he might be into someone else.”

Louis raised his eyebrows. _This_ was news. “Really? Who?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know, he wouldn’t say.” He ate a forkful of rice, chewing slowly. “I hope he’s a good guy, whoever he is. I told Niall to ask him out for Valentine’s Day.”

Well, this was certainly a turn of events. Louis wondered if that made him petty, for wanting to fuck with Drew if Niall had already moved on.

Nah, Drew was still a dick. And Louis never had any qualms about being petty if someone was a dick.

Harry cleared his throat suddenly. He’d put his fork down and was rubbing the palms of his hands together. “Um, Louis, about Valentine’s Day…”

Cool dread filled Louis’ stomach. He was suddenly sure he wanted to know nothing about what Harry had to say about Valentine’s Day. He may be Harry’s favorite, but he wasn’t the one who would be swept away in a romantic escapade with him come next weekend. The thought turned his taste buds sour, and if Harry was going to share the details with him, Louis didn’t want to hear. It probably made him a terrible friend, but he didn’t think his heart could bare it.

“Don’t worry, H,” Louis said before Harry could continue. He waved a hand. “I asked Zayn to come to the Valentine Jam with me, so you’re off the hook for being my fake date.”

It was a joke. A piece of witticism. A jocular remark. So why was Harry staring at him like that?

“Uh, Harry?” he said into the sudden silence. Something about it was beginning to make him deeply uncomfortable. “You know I’m kidding, right? I didn’t really expect you to be my fake date.”

Harry blinked. He still wasn’t smiling. “You asked Zayn?”

“Not for real,” Louis said. “Still just fake, but he shares my deep passion for revenge on Drew, so I figured he was a good choice.”

“But I don’t like Drew either,” Harry said, drawing his eyebrows together.

Louis looked at him. What was he trying to say? This was all too confusing. Louis tried for another lighthearted remark. “Well I would hope not, that would be very disloyal to Niall’s friendship of you.”

Not even the hint of a smile from Harry. In fact, he looked increasingly bothered. Louis couldn’t make sense of it. Harry was going to have _real_ Valentine plans; surely Louis could have his deplorable fake ones.

“I know you probably don’t approve of hurting someone’s feelings, even if they did fuck over our best friend-”

“No, I don’t care,” Harry said quickly, looking away. His eyes seemed to flicker over everything except Louis’ face. “That’s perfectly fine. Do what you want for Valentine’s Day. I’m happy for you.”

Funny, because the scowl on his face sure didn’t make him _look_ very happy.

Louis didn’t understand.

Harry turned back to his plate, jabbing at a piece of chicken with perhaps more force than necessary. Louis bit down on his tongue, turning back to his own food and trying to ignore the heavy silence that had suddenly settled into the distance between them.

 

*

 

Niall was biting on his thumbnail when Harry found him in the student union the next day, and he looked so very distressed that for a moment Harry nearly forgot the dejection that currently swam through his melancholy veins.

“I was thinking,” Niall said as soon as he reached him, and his eyes looked a little wild, as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep at all last night, “about what we were talking about yesterday, about determination? Because, I guess, maybe there is someone? And you went ahead and asked out Louis, and if you can do that then, yeah, I can probably do it to?”

Niall’s eyes flicked back and forth between Harry’s, searching for some sort of answer, and Harry had never seen Niall look so uncertain in his life. Always so full of sunshine and confidence, it was almost shocking.

Harry put a hand on his shoulder. “Of course you can, Niall. I don’t see why this guy would say no.”

Niall bit his lip, like he could think of a million reasons. Harry understood all too well. Yet of all the reasons _he’d_ considered, Zayn Malik had never been one of them.

He didn’t want to hold it against Zayn, he loved Zayn, but fuck, why did the guy have to be so pretty? Why did _he_ have to hold the bigger grudge against Drew? Harry could hate Drew, he really could, if he tried hard enough.

Why didn’t Louis choose _him_ to be his fake date? This type of gimmick had HarryandLouis written all over it.

Yes, Louis had asked him the other day when Jeff had been over, but he’d said it jokingly, just like he’d joked about it last night. Like he’d never really mean it. He chose Zayn instead, and every time Harry thought about it was like a tiny punch to his increasingly bruised heart.

 _He_ was Louis’ best friend. _Harry._ Just Harry.

“Harry?”

He blinked and focused his eyes back on Niall again, who was looking at him curiously. “Last night went well, right? Fuck, I should’ve asked you that first. But you did it, right? You’ve got your date with Louis.” A grin began to grow on his face, uncertainty slipping into reassurance and excitement.

Harry really, _really_ didn’t want to burst Niall’s bubble.

“Um,” Harry said.

Because Harry never did ask Louis out, and they’d spent the rest of dinner fading in and out of idle, blatantly stilted conversation that was entirely on Harry’s part, because going through with his proposition seemed silly since Louis already had his plans. When they’d finally finished Harry had insisted on doing the dishes by himself even though Louis had adamantly offered to help, because even though his plan may have failed, dinner had still been his treat.

He’d retreated to his room afterword, had contemplated calling Jeff, or Liam, or Niall himself, but instead he’d stayed lying face down on his pillow, utterly miserable and stupidly embarrassed. Jeff would have told him to ask Louis out anyway, would have demanded to know why he’d waited so long to do it; Liam would have been all sympathetic ears and might even have offered to talk to Louis himself; And Niall, Niall would just have been sad and confused.

Like now, as his smile began to fade into a puzzled frown. “Harry?”

“Uh,” Harry said, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his head. “Er, about that.”

Niall’s eyes widened, disbelief laced in blue. “There’s no way he could have said no. How could he have said no?”

“I didn’t ask him, exactly,” Harry said slowly. Niall stared. Harry dropped his hand and sighed. “He has plans already, I couldn’t ask him.”

A scowl found its way to Niall’s face. “What kind of plans? What could be more important to him than a date with you?”

May God bless Niall and shower his family with riches and good health. Harry wanted to cry.

“He has a date already, for- ”

Harry broke off, realizing suddenly that Niall didn’t know about Louis’ whole run-in with Drew, probably shouldn’t know about his plan of Valentine revenge.

“He has a date already?” Niall repeated, his eyebrows rising so high they threatened to disappear in to the roots of his hair. “ _What_? With who?”

“Um.” Harry bit on his tongue. “Zayn.”

Niall went positively rigid.

“What?” he said.

Harry looked at him, a pinch of vague unease settling in his chest for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. “He’s going on a date with Zayn?” Harry repeated, framing the statement into a question, almost as if he hoped Niall might answer “no.”

“Louis…and Zayn?” Niall blinked, shock flitting over his face as he looked back at Harry, as if the words were just settling into his brain.

Harry figured for someone who didn’t know the context of this date, this _fake_ date, it might be rather shocking. Louis and Zayn were great friends, obviously, but there had never been a hint of anything further.

The color had drained from Niall’s face in the most peculiar way; even the blonde tips of his hair seemed to have wilted slightly. Harry felt distinctly confused.

“Yeah,” Harry said, battering his confusion away. There were more important things to discuss here. “But hey, it’s fine. Let’s focus on you now, okay? When are you going to ask out that lucky bloke of yours?”

Niall’s eyes flitted away from him. “Dunno.”

“Well you’re going to do it, right?” Harry said. He really, really wanted Niall to do it. _Someone_ had to have a date this Valentine’s Day with someone they loved.

“Yeah, maybe.” Niall looked distracted now, the nervous energy from before completely gone and replaced with something almost like melancholy. Harry didn’t understand.

“Niall-”

“I’ve got to go, Harry,” Niall said suddenly. He adjusted the bag hanging over his shoulders and backed away, disappearing into the crowd of students passing through the union before Harry could say another word.

Harry blinked into the whirl of people and color, and Niall was gone.

 

*

 

“I don’t need them anymore,” Harry said, pushing the tickets back into Jeff’s hands.

“You can still go, Hersh,” Jeff said, standing the doorway to Harry’s flat, coat hanging off of his shoulders and cold still clinging to the paper in his hands. He tried to give them back to Harry. “It’s a fake date, and the concert’s not even on Valentine’s Day. You can still ask him to go with you.”

Except the thing was, Harry really didn’t think he could. He dropped his shoulders and stepped back so Jeff could walk in. “But he didn’t ask _me_.”

“Technically, he did,” Jeff said, stepping inside and kicking off his boots, soaked through from the snow.

“It was a _joke.”_ Harry knew he sounded like he was whining, but it wasn’t _fair_ , and it was _frustrating._

Jeff sighed and looked at him, a little more sympathy laced in his next words as they moved into the kitchen. “I know. This whole situation’s turned to shit.”

Yes, yes it had. Everything had seemed so _perfect,_ too.

Harry wasn’t actively avoiding Louis now…but he hadn’t really talked to him since last week’s dinner, and Louis wasn’t doing much to cross the bridge between them either, and it was stupid and it _hurt_ , like a physical bruise on his heart, and he didn’t even know what he did to deserve it. What he did to make Louis choose someone else.

The thought process he’d developed on why Louis had picked Zayn over him was bordering on obsessive. It had come to its peak that morning, when he’d spotted Louis and Zayn in the student lounge, and sure, maybe Liam had been their too, and Zayn looked half comatose over his coffee, but then Louis had said something and he’d laughed and Harry had felt so irrationally irritated he had to turn away and physically leave the building.

“Harry,” Jeff said, absently flapping the tickets between his fingers, “have you talked to him? Tell him how you feel-”

“I tried that,” Harry cut him off, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning back against the counter.

“I _mean,_ ” Jeff said pointedly, “about how you feel about the whole Zayn thing, because I still maintain that Louis feels the same about you. Don’t be so bitter, it doesn’t suit you.”

Harry sighed, letting his hands fall to his sides. Jeff was right. Technically, Louis hadn’t done anything wrong. If he was this upset over Louis having a fake boyfriend, he didn’t want to know how he’d feel when Louis started dating someone else for _real._ The thought made his throat burn.

Harry looked up at Jeff through a sheet of untidy curls. “You really think he feels the same?”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “Will saying it for the millionth time really make any difference?”

“Maybe.” Harry felt a tiny smile crease at his corners of his mouth.

“It’s no mystery, Sherlock. It’s been obvious since the day I met him,” Jeff said. “He half hates me, you know.”

“What?” Harry drew his eyebrows together. “No he doesn’t! The two of you get along really well!”

“Hersh, he spends half of his time glaring at me,” Jeff said. “Believe me, I like the guy, but any appearance _he_ puts up, it’s for you.”  

“But- you don't even like guys!”

“And _he_ doesn’t have a thing for Zayn,” Jeff said. “And Zayn doesn’t have a thing for him. Honestly, have you seen him and Niall?”

“What about Niall?” Harry said distractedly, trying to take in this new information. Louis _couldn’t_ hate Jeff…okay, maybe he’d said something about how he’d thought Jeff was his new best friend, but _surely-_

Surely he knew Harry loved him best? Harry had told him so, so  _surely_ he knew?

Harry groaned. “Jeff, everything’s a mess.”

“That’s why you need me to tell you to get your shit together,” Jeff said. “We Azoffs, we’re good at cleaning up messes. You’re going to talk to him, alright? When he gets home. And give him one of those tickets. My dad didn’t waste an intern’s energy on mailing these for nothing.” He shoved them into the pocket of Harry’s coat, hanging neatly on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Harry watched him, too wary to put up another fight.

“Okay,” Harry sighed. He glanced at his watch. Louis probably wouldn’t be back for another hour or so. He looked back up at Jeff. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Good.” Jeff clapped him on the shoulder and made for the doorway. “Glad that’s settled for now. Now let’s play a video game that’s not fucking FIFA. I don’t know _why_ you guys play it all the time.” 

“Wait,” Harry said, following him. “I had a Youtube video I wanted to show you.”

“Hersh, if it’s fucking kittens again, I swear I _will_ convince Louis to go out with Zayn instead of you.”

“ _Heeey_ …”

 

*

 

There was something off between himself and Harry, Louis decided, if the fact that they had barely acknowledged each other in nearly a week was any indication. It was a very solid decision, mostly influenced by the gnawing ache and confusion that had plagued him ever since Harry had come home with dinner, and it twisted and tightened with every passing day that started and ended in silence between them. And they fucking _lived_ together. The only thing that separated them at night was a single wall, yet it felt miles thick. Even if he could still hear Harry’s hipster music on the other side.

“Maybe telling him about the fake date wasn’t the best idea,” Zayn had said when Louis had met up with him and Liam for coffee that very morning. “I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

“I’m allowed to fake date other people, Zayn,” Louis said. He scowled. He _was_.

“Even if you’ve been half _real_ dating Harry since the day you met him?” Liam said, raising an eyebrow.

“I think you’re talking about that American lad? Rhymes with Smeff Smazoff? He’d dump all of Harry’s tea into the harbor and Harry would still kiss his feet?” Louis took an aggressive sip of his drink.

“I’m glad to see that jealousy has sharpened your knowledge of American history,” Liam said.

“Know thy enemy,” Louis muttered.

Zayn burst out laughing, so sudden Louis nearly dropped his mug. He looked at Louis. “You and Harry are both fuckin’ idiots.”

Louis brushed Zayn off, but as the day went on the words began to itch at his skin, and when he opened up his text messages and realized he actually had to scroll down to find Harry’s name for the first time since he’d added Harry as a contact, he decided something had to change, that perhaps Zayn wasn’t entirely wrong.

He walked up the three flights of stairs to their flat with purpose and a strange set of nerves. This was _Harry_.

Which. Was exactly it. This was _Harry._ There was something strange going on between them, which was _odd,_ because things had always been so easy between them, warm and fluid, and Louis didn’t like that things had grown awkward and stilted. It was weird, it was off. It wasn’t _them._

And Louis wasn’t sure what might have to be said in order to fix it.

“Haz?” he called out as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Haz, are you-”

His voice died as he chucked one of his shoes off, because there, in the middle of the hallway, were Jeff’s boots. An inexplicable spark of annoyance flared behind his eyes.

Shoes left kicked in the hallway was a well-known pet peeve of Harry’s, one only _Louis_ was allowed to get away with.

Louis glared at the boot. He liked to imagine the water pooling around it from the rain was a nervous sweat caused by his dagger gaze. He kicked his own wet shoes off against the wall and stalked into the kitchen. A laugh sounded from the living room, followed by a familiar giggle and the sound of cartoonish music from whatever vintage hipster video game of Harry’s they were playing.

So Jeff was here. Fine. Louis would still talk to Harry, it was _fine._

He grabbed a bowl and a box of cereal and set them on the table with a clatter, not that he was _trying_ to draw attention to his presence. He opened a drawer for a spoon and didn’t _mean_ to slam it shut.

He also didn’t _mean_ to knock Harry’s coat off its chair when he went to sit down, heavy zipper clanking against the floor. He sighed, figuring he wasn’t cruel enough to leave it there, and bent over to retrieve it. Something slipped out of one of the pockets as he stood back up, two slips of paper fluttering down to the sun bleached linoleum floor.

Louis bent down again to pick them up.

He froze halfway, fingers outstretched.

That…that said _MOON MINDERS._ The name of Louis’ favorite band. His _favorite_ band. Printed in solid black capital letters, screaming up at him. Louis blinked at them.

Of course, Louis had known they were coming to their city at the end of February. Of _course_ he knew that, he knew every fucking thing about them. He also knew he’d never, in a million years, be able to get tickets, couldn’t dream of affording them. Yet here they were, two perfectly good tickets to the show of his dreams, literally right beneath his fingertips.

And they’d been in Harry’s pocket. Two whole, real tickets to the Moon Minders. What on _earth-_

His eyes fell to the next set of words on the ticket, printed considerably smaller but there all the while, forming the very last name Louis would have ever wanted to see there.

_Jeff Azoff_

Louis heart fell right through the linoleum and straight to the cold empty dungeon he suddenly imagined must exist beneath a place like this. Harry had two concert tickets from Jeff in his pocket. To _Louis’_ favorite band.

This must have been Jeff’s surprise.

Did the universe honestly have to fuck with Louis _that_ badly?

He clenched his fingers around cold air, looking away from the tickets, wanting to leave them there, maybe step on them, sweep them under the table, vacuum them up by mistake. _Fuck_ Harry for telling Louis he was his favorite.

Something stung horribly in the back of his throat.

The television sound drifting through the doorway muted suddenly, and he heard a “Lou?”

Heart jumping into his throat, Louis grabbed the tickets and shoved them back into Harry’s pocket. By the time Harry appeared in the doorway, he had poured twice as much cereal than he’d meant to into his bowl.

Harry looked tentative as he peered at Louis from the doorway, one foot inside as if he wasn’t quite sure he was allowed to enter his own kitchen. And what the fuck? How did things get like this?  

“Hi, Lou, um. Hi?” Harry said, eyes unsure but bright beneath his side swept hair. He hadn’t cut it in months, had returned from winter break with it nearly reaching his shoulders, and now his curls hungloose and soft in the remaining light leaking through their small kitchen window. Louis bit his tongue, because he dreamed of touching those curls every single day, because sometimes he got to when they were lazing about, Harry soft and dozy as a cat with his head on Louis’ lap in front of the television. And when Louis pushed his hand through his hair, smelling of lilacs or strawberries or his favorite apple crunch muffins, fingers dragging along his scalp, the boy positively _purred_ and looked up at Louis with hooded green eyes and sweet pink lips that Louis just-

-had no right to think about, really, anymore. He blinked, glancing away from said boy in the doorway. “Hi, Harry.”

“I just wanted to ask you,” Harry said, taking a step into the kitchen, “if we could maybe talk, later? We haven’t really talked, you know?”

Louis looked back up, and Harry looked so uncertain and hopeful and uncharacteristically shy, and Louis wanted to say yes. God, he needed to say yes.

But all he could see where the two Moon Minders tickets in Harry’s pocket, with Jeff’s name on them, and there was nothing he wanted less in the world than to talk about that. How could he support something that made him actually want to cry real tears? He’d have to leave town the night of that show.

He _wasn’t_ being overdramatic about this.

Except maybe he was, just a little, but his words were the product of a suffering heart when he shrugged and strolled past Harry on the way to his room, a bowl too full of cereal in his hands as he said, “What’s there to talk about?”

 

*

 

“You know what we should do tomorrow?” Niall said the night before Valentine’s Day, absently carding his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“What?” Harry said, head in Niall’s lap. He lay sprawled out on Niall’s bed because he hadn’t really wanted to go back to his own, had been avoiding his flat as much as possible the last few days, dividing himself between Jeff and Niall and Liam and whoever else might take him. Niall’s room was an absolute disaster, items thrown about haphazardly, and ordinarily that might annoy Harry, but right now he felt it appropriate, felt that it matched the state of his heart.

“We should get drunk,” Niall said. “Fuckin’ wasted. Pissed out of our minds.”

Louis wouldn’t even talk to him. Harry had tried, and Louis hadn’t even wanted to _hear_ him. Harry didn’t understand what he’d even _done_.

Yes, drunk sounded good. Besides, it wasn’t as if he had anything else to do for Valentine’s Day. “Alright.”

Harry still didn’t understand why Niall never asked out his own boy, the one he’d had such declared such determination for that one morning, but whenever Harry tried to ask him Niall shrugged it off, got unusually quiet and moody. So Harry stopped inquiring him about it, dropped his wary head into Niall’s lap instead, and Niall’s hand in his hair didn’t feel quite as nice as Louis’ – no one’s did – but it was comforting, and at least they could wallow in their heartache together.

“Perfect,” Niall says.

Yes, perfect. Louis and Zayn will be on their glorious fake date and Harry will be drunk with Niall and still have two unclaimed concert tickets in his pocket. Harry closed his eyes.

 

*

 

“This is fucking stupid. I never should have agreed to this.”

“Now there’s something I love to hear a guy say before a date.”

Zayn rolled his eyes, and he made it look graceful and exquisite in a way Louis hadn’t thought possible, dressed in a sleek black blazer, and he’d be jealous if he wasn’t so pleased at how very pissed off Drew was going to be.

At least Valentine’s Day only existed to cater to commercial consumerism, not some religious or patriotic cause. May as well just add this scheme to the long list of Louis’ sins.

“I could be on a date with the man of my dreams,” Zayn sighed, breath full of melodrama.

“Are you implying I’m not the man of your dreams?” Louis said, giving himself one more glance in the mirror. He’d slicked his hair back into a wicked quiff, and his pants hugged his bum deliciously, if he did say so himself.

He and Zayn looked fucking hot together, and Drew was going to cry himself mad with lust on the dance floor. Niall would love them forever.

“Is Niall still clueless about all of this?” Zayn asked, glancing at him as they made for the door. “What’s he even doing tonight, anyway?”

Louis shrugged as he locked the door behind him. “Not a clue. Liam will be at the Jam, though, right? With Sophia?”

Zayn nodded, eyes sliding to meet Louis’ as they proceeded down the hallway. “And what about Harry?”

Louis’ face immediately fell into a scowl. “Probably shagging our favorite American hotshot as we speak.” The words tasted sour on his tongue.

“Louis-”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Zayn,” he cut him off as they emerged into the freezing outdoors. The air was still, crisp and dry.

Why should he talk about Harry? Why should he give him the time of day when he’d hardly seen the boy in the last several days, flying in and out of their flat in little more than a whirl of wintry air and windswept curls to grab some piece of clothing or a schoolbook, only to hightail it back to Jeff’s, probably?

_You’re my favorite, Louis._

He wished Harry had never said that. Maybe all of this would hurt just a tiny bit less if Harry hadn’t said it.

Louis needed a drink. What was he thinking, going into this stone cold sober? He grabbed Zayn’s wrist and pulled him inside the pub nearest them, just outside university grounds.

“We need a little heat in our veins,” Louis said at Zayn’s indignant yelp.

The pub was full on this Saturday night, of course it was, and Louis pulled Zayn right up to the counter and ordered two drinks.

“Put it on his tab, he’s my date,” Zayn said, nodding at Louis, as the barman looked between them for payment.

Well, it was true. Louis _had_ asked him to be his date. He slid his card across the counter. But after the second drink Zayn was on his own. Romance was dead, anyway.

The barman placed their drinks on the counter with a thunk and Louis pushed one into Zayn’s hand. He spun around to lead him through the sea of pub-going faces. “Come on, Zayner, let’s go-”

“Louis?”

A glossy-eyed, flushed and rosy-cheeked Niall stood in front of him, empty glass in hand. His blonde tips stood proudly and he wore a silly blue polka dotted bowtie over a polo shirt and he had a funny little grin on his face. He looked positively cute.

“Hi, Louis!” he said, throwing his hand up in the air. “And-” His eyes flew around. “Zayn! Hi, Zayn!”

“Why hello, Niall,” Louis said, because running into a drunk Niall in a pub any night of the week was hardly a shock. He reached forward and straightened his bowtie. “Don’t you look dashing.”

“Thanks,” Niall said, face blooming as he picked at the bowtie himself. “This was Harry’s idea. Do you really like it?” His eyes slipped to Zayn again.

A touch of color dusted Zayn’s cheekbones. “Course, Nialler,” he managed to say in a strange voice, and it might have been peculiar except Louis’ brain had caught on one thing.

 _Harry_ ’s idea?

“Niall! Where’d you—oh.”

The man himself suddenly appeared beside Niall, emerging from a group of girls adorned with large pink bows and heart shaped glitter in their hair. It dusted his own curls, falling around his face in near ringlets, face flushed to match Niall’s, eyes shiny and round and lips so perfectly pink Louis felt the thud of his heartbeat down to his fingertips.

Which, _no._

Harry was wearing a red polka dotted bowtie to match Niall’s, his own button up shirt dotted with small pink hearts and it clashed so terribly Louis felt he should shield his eyes, if it wasn’t so very _Harry_. Who stared back at Louis, expression stretching into something blank. His eyes flickered to Zayn.

“What are you doing here?” Louis asked before he could help himself, genuinely surprised.

“Niall and I are having a night out,” Harry said, raising his chin ever so slightly. The flush reached all the way down his neck. “Where else would I be?”

With Jeff? With Jeff. Jeff.

“I thought you’d have found some hot date, of course,” Louis said quickly, smoothly, fixing a grin onto his face because they weren’t _fighting,_ really. Because he was _joking,_ obviously.

Everything was weird. He took a large sip of his drink.

“Ex _cuse_ me, Tommo?” Niall said, raising his eyebrows. Harry looked equally indignant. Zayn tucked his tongue between his lips and bit back a smile.

Louis flicked Niall’s bowtie, dragged a finger up his neck. “I’m only saying that because you deserve far better than a dingy pub, Nialler.”

“I could say the same for Zayn,” Harry butt in, and there was less humor in his tone than Louis’. What was he _doing?_ He knew this wasn’t real.

Except.

Louis guzzled down the rest of his drink and reached down to snatch Zayn’s hand. Both Harry and Niall’s eyes dropped down to their newly entwined fingers. “You’re right. Which is why, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll be on to the ball now.”

Louis started through the mass of people, tugging Zayn along. He didn’t stop until they were outside the pub, cool air brushing over their faces and the sidewalk considerably quieter. Zayn still had his glass in his hand, half full.

He raised an eyebrow at Louis.

“What the fuck was that about?”

“What?” Louis said, bringing a hand up to his hair to make sure it was still standing. Thank goodness he always sprang for the heavy duty spray.

“I told you to ask Harry to do this instead of me,” Zayn said.

“I told you he would be busy.” Louis didn’t meet his eyes.

Zayn took an idle sip from his glass. “On a date with Jeff. That didn’t look like a date with Jeff.”

Louis began to move along the sidewalk, lamplight reflecting off the pavement shining with ice. “So he’s on a date with Niall, whatever. Did you see their matching bowties?”

Zayn fell silent behind him, and when Louis turned back around he had an empty glass in his hand, staring back at the pub.

For fuck’s sake, this wasn’t a very good start to their evening of revenge and debauchery.

Louis doubled back and grabbed Zayn and pulled him into the next pub they came upon. They could do with a little more alcohol in their veins.

 

*

 

It was fake, it was _fake_ , it was all fucking fake and Harry knew that. Maybe it was just the alcohol that made his head spin when Louis held Zayn’s hand.

He wiped a speck of glitter from beneath his eye. He turned to Niall, who was facing the exit, the direction Louis and Zayn had just stalked off. His rosy smile seemed to have wilted, eyes a touch somber.

Harry couldn’t have that. He put a hand on Niall’s shoulder. “Mate, you know Louis was joking, right? You’re the hottest date, like, _ever_.”

Niall’s eyes slid to his face, his smile returning, even if it didn’t completely reach his eyes, clouded with some sort of sadness. “And you the very same, Haz.”

“You know what?” Harry said, swallowing thickly because an idea had just come to him. Maybe it was bad. Maybe it was great. “Let’s go somewhere else. I’ve got an idea.”

Niall considered it. “Okay, but will there be food there? I’m fuckin’ starving.”

“We’ll stop on the way,” Harry said.

Niall grinned, a semblance of sunshine returning to his smile.

 

*

 

“You know,” Zayn said as he and Louis walked into the student union, their hands clasped firmly together and their limbs warm and loose and a few drinks deep, “this better not be like the movies, this better not make us fall in love. I’ve read this before in books, you know.”

“What do you think this is, _The Proposal_?” Louis said. “I’m much fitter than Sandra Bullock. If you were meant to be in love with me you’d have fallen ages ago.” He looked at him, lowering his voice and raising a suggestive eyebrow. “Unless you already have, that is.”

Zayn laughed.

Well, fine.

They were still the hottest fucking couple at this shindig.

Louis gazed around the bar hall, bathed in red lights reflecting off glittery glowing hearts and the highlights of girls’ hair and boy’s glossy eyes. It was warm, or maybe it was the drink in Louis’ veins, or both, and the music pulsed electrically and flashed inside Louis’ brain, and it was all kind of like being inside a beating heart.

It was funny, the way it bared complete resemblance to the previous year’s Valentine Jam, except last year’s seemed brighter, somehow, in his memory. Less shadowy.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that a pliant, sweet, curly haired boy wasn’t pressed against his side, nuzzling his neck as he sang along to the music, giggling into his ear at jokes Louis forgot seconds after he said them, lighting every crevice of Louis’ heart.

What had Louis done to lose that? Why had he been a dick in that pub?

He wished he could go back in time to a year ago, latch on to Harry and never let go. He fucking missed him. He fucking _loved_ him.

Louis swallowed the thought, feeling decidedly sour and sad all of the sudden, and he didn’t want that, not when he had another best friend beside him and maybe he wasn’t in love with him but they could have fun, they could make a night of this, punishing Drew for his sins or not. Beneath the flashing, crimson lights Zayn looked positively magnetic.

“Let’s dance,” Louis said, pulling Zayn in further. Zayn followed easily, pausing to grab two flutes of rose colored champagne lined along the bar. He passed one to Louis and grinned, dark hair glinting beneath the low lights and eyes bright.

“Let’s give our single fucking selves the best fucking fake Valentine date of their lives,” Louis said, tapping his glass against Zayn’s, bolstered by the sweet burn of the drink as it met his lips. “And if we happen to run into Drew, our luck is golden.”

Zayn’s lips grew into a slow, simmering smile. Louis felt tipsy and giddy and also slightly sinister. He and Zayn would rule this night, and he wasn’t going to think about Harry _once_. He and Zayn slunk onto the dance floor, blending with the bodies and fusing with the lights and the music.

 

*

 

Harry found himself at the Valentine Jam because apparently he was a masochist.

“Wait, Harry,” Niall said, looking at him blankly. They had stopped and eaten some burgers on their way because Niall had complained of being hungry, and now he seemed languid, eyes heavy, boring into Harry’s. “Aren’t Louis and Zayn here?”

Yes. Yes, exactly.

Because Louis didn’t feel the same about Harry, because Louis didn’t even consider him his best friend anymore, because he was supposed to surprise Louis with those stupid tickets and they were supposed to fall stupidly in love and maybe Harry already was. Because it was Valentine’s Day and the Valentine Jam was _their_ thing.

The burger sat thick and heavy in his stomach and as he grew sober he began to feel miserable on the inside in more than one way. It was hot and it made him want to claw his bowtie off, an idea that had seemed so fun and quirky just hours ago, and everything was too red and the music pressed in on his ears and it all kind of felt a bit like hell, to be honest.

“You’re very dramatic,” Niall said, and Harry realized he’d said the last part out loud, impassioned, and Niall reached over and loosened his bowtie for him. “I thought you said this was going to be fun? Why are you doing this to yourself, Harry?”

Harry looked at Niall. His face was drawn in concern, looking as distressingly sober as Harry suddenly was. Harry gazed back at Niall and said the first thing that came to his mind. “Why didn’t you ask out your mystery boy, Niall?”

Niall’s expression went black, cherry red lights sliding across the smooth contours of his face, and Harry immediately felt bad. Niall was one of his best friends, and they were supposed to have fun together tonight, and he was taking his broken heart out on him, and it was just now occurring to Harry that Niall might be feeling the same.

“He’s on a date,” Niall said suddenly, before Harry could apologize and change the subject. He looked back at Harry, blue eyes glowing. “Someone else got to him before I could.”

Shit.

Harry was such a terrible friend. He kind of wanted to throw up.

Niall sighed, a sad kind of smile tilting his lips upward. He put a hand on Harry’s arm, rolling his eyes. “We weren’t supposed to get depressing tonight. I’m gonna get us some more drinks.”

Niall disappeared into the crowd, the blonde tips of his hair flashing red. Harry felt oddly empty all of the sudden, alone in a room full of hearts and couples dancing and laughing and wet lips pressed to skin. He pulled his bowtie snug around his neck again.

He was just contemplating slinking off after Niall – he’d been gone nearly an entire minute and Harry was growing jittery – when he found a pair of eyes looking at him from the edge of the dance floor.

Harry glanced away, then looked back.

For fuck’s sake.

Drew began walking toward him and Harry glanced away again, because weren’t Louis and Zayn supposed to be groping each other in Drew’s general vicinity? Why was Drew approaching _him_?

“Lose your boyfriend, Harold?” Drew said as soon as he was close enough for Harry to hear him, and, oh fuck, had Drew seen him and Niall? Did he _seriously_ think- ?

“S’ Harry,” he said instead, gazing back at him, because seeking revenge was a mission he hadn’t signed up for.

“I like your bowtie,” Drew said, walking close enough to give it a tug, and something funny and uncomfortable twisted in Harry’s stomach. Maybe he _wasn’t_ Niall’s boyfriend, but this guy was an utter dick to him, and to Louis, and maybe Harry was no one’s boyfriend but he was their best friend.

Harry’s stature hardened. “Look, Drew, do you think you could just-”

“Who’d you find, Haz? Got you some funny pink champagne!” Niall rounded Harry’s shoulder, a newly flushed tinge to his cheeks and a smile on his face, two glasses held loftily in his hands, one already empty.

Niall’s eyes fell upon Drew, and amazingly – or maybe not? – Niall only looked marginally surprised. He raised his eyebrows at him, passing the champagne to Harry. Niall was right, it was a funny pink.

“Hey Drew, long time no see,” Niall said, voice light, and only someone who knew him very well would hear the shadowed edge of coolness to it. “Not that I’ve been complaining.” He shrugged.

Oh shit. Harry looked back at Drew.

Drew’s face immediately simmered, blank and unaffected. He glanced between the two of them and opened his mouth to say something else when someone positively _barreled_ between Harry and Niall, hooking their arms around their necks.

“Lads!” Liam said, cheerful and smiley and perhaps a little bit drunk. “What are you doing here?” His lips were the color of roses under the lights and he pressed a sloppy kiss to each of their cheeks. Too much pink champagne for Liam, then. Harry could feel a smile budding on his face.

Liam looked up, eyes falling on Drew in front of them. “Hello, Drew,” he said, smiling sweetly at him. “Lovely party you’ve helped throw here.”

Drew looked at him, blank. “Thanks,” he said, voice toneless and the tiniest bit mystified as he looked between the three of them. He took a step back. “I’m off to get back to my date, then.”

“Have fun!” Niall sang after him as they watched him fade back into the crowd. Niall barked a laugh, turning to look at Harry and Liam, his smile sunny. “Well, that was fun.”

Is that all it took, then? To make Niall happy? A few thinly veiled insults and a show of true joy and friendship? Why was this even coming as a surprise?

Harry felt himself grin. And Louis, he didn’t even need to-

Louis. That was…Louis?

Dancing, just near the edge of the dance floor, with Zayn, on Zayn, nearly _in_ Zayn, crimson lights shining off their glistening faces, hands all over each other, and Drew wasn’t even there, they were doing this for no one’s eyes, it was _fake_ it was supposed to be _fake-_

Harry’s insides burned.

“Excuse me,” he said suddenly to Liam and Niall, voice oddly caught in his throat. He passed his champagne glass to Niall. “I’ve got to go to the loo.”

He ducked out from under Liam’s arm, not caring if his and Niall’s eyes were following him as he very obviously didn’t walk in the direction of the toilet.

It was supposed to be _fake_.

 

*

 

“Zayn Malik, you minx,” Louis said into Zayn’s shoulder, skin covered in a thin layer of sweat and too many glasses of rose petal champagne running through his veins.  “Why didn’t you tell me you were such a good dancer?”

“Maybe I’m not,” Zayn said, teeth glinting, pulling back slightly. “Maybe you’re just as bad as I am.”

Louis took a step back. “ _Excuse_ me, I am the best dancer here. I take back what I said about you being a minx.”

Zayn smirked, until his eyes caught focus on something over Louis’ shoulder. “Look, look, there he is again-”

Fuck, had Drew even seen them yet? They’d seen him loads of times, had been raucously loud, danced like wild men. “Hurry, quick, dip me!”

Maybe Louis had spoken too soon when he’d complemented Zayn on his dance skills, because dipping someone was move he was clearly not versed in. Louis went hard and fast toward the floor, and for one frightful moment he was sure he may just crack his head open – such a shame for his perfectly sculpted hair tonight, honestly – but Zayn caught him, pulled him back up, twirled him around until all he saw was a mass of swirling red.

“I almost died right there, you fucker,” Louis said, catching his breath as he fell back into a steady rhythm, Zayn’s arms low around his waist.

“You’re the one that said I was a minx,” Zayn said. He glanced behind Louis again.

“Where’d he go?” Louis said, twisting around and finding nothing but swaying bodies.

“Somewhere off the dance floor, I dunno,” Zayn said. “He’ll be back.”

And he was, hardly five minutes later, and this time it was Louis who spotted him and instead of the smugness Zayn claimed had been there before, his face was coated in a scowl. Louis wasn’t going to pretend it didn’t please him.

“Look, quick, twirl me,” Louis said, grabbing Zayn’s hand again, feeling laughter bubble up his throat as Zayn spun him around again. He hoped Drew was close enough to hear it.

“Did he see us?” Louis asked once he came to face Zayn again, eyes fading in and out of focus as dizziness tilted the room around him. He hooked his hands around the back of Zayn’s neck, pressing his chest close against Zayn’s to steady himself.

“I don’t-” Zayn started. He broke off as his eyes caught something over Louis’ shoulder once more.

“Is it him again?” Louis asked, catching his breath and spinning around again, only to come face to face with-

“Harry?”

It was a physical shock to the chest, because Louis most certainly was _not_ expecting to come face to face with Harry, who still had glitter in his hair and wide eyes and a distinctly ruffled scowl on his face, eyebrows drawn so closely together Louis would make a joke about buying him a pair of tweezers if occasion deemed slightlymore appropriate.

“Harry, what are you doing here?” Louis asked, mind wiped completely blank because he’d been dancing to _forget_ Harry and he’d been having fun with Zayn and trying to antagonize Drew.

“You- you’re-” Harry said, voice low over the music and the voices and- oh, there was a couple with their tongues quite intimately intertwined behind Harry’s back, and-

“You’re dancing,” Harry said, eyebrows upturning ever so slightly, his voice oddly strained. “You’re dancing, like, like-”

Louis stared at him. “Like what?” he said, voice careful, because there was something going on here, that much was clear, despite his hazy mind.

Harry stared back, eyes imploring, like he wanted him to understand something that was just out of Louis’ reach. Louis blinked, his chest pinching. He was very aware of the way Zayn decided to choose that moment to slide his hand off of his waste.

“We’re dancing like we’re having fun, Haz,” Louis said slowly. Harry was still staring at him with that horrible scowl and something felt distinctly _off_. “And like we’re out for revenge. You can’t expect us to be arms length apart, can you? Virtue doesn’t say _revenge_ , Harry.”

Harry’s eyes flickered, just for an instant, like the undercurrent of a laugh swam just beneath his skin. Louis felt himself relax the tiniest fraction.

“Maybe,” Harry said slowly, like he was unsticking the words from his tongue, “maybe Drew will be jealous of the virtuous respect between you.”

Louis actually barked out a laugh at that, because just _what_ was going through this boy’s head right now? He put a hand on Harry’s arm as his chuckles faded into the music, changing with the song.

“Harry, this is a fake date, you know that,” Louis heard himself say, voice gentle over the tide of the music, because he felt like it should be, for some reason.

Harry’s eyes were quiet, flickering from his to Zayn’s. “I know, I was just- I wanted to know why-” He broke off, looking down and shaking his head, a stray curl falling from behind his ear. He pushed it back at and looked up again, a small, almost morose, smile on his face. “Never mind. I’ve had too much to drink. I’ve got to get back to Niall. Sophia’s probably caught up with Liam by now.”

“Niall’s here?” Zayn said suddenly, breaking his silence and stepping forward.

Harry nodded. “Well, yeah. We saw Drew, too. Niall was pretty okay with it, you know. He stands up for himself well.” There was a sudden edge of defensiveness in his voice, quietly cool.

“Of course he does,” Louis said, “We’re just- Harry, it’s-”

“I’ve got to go,” Harry said, and then he spun around and was gone, lost in a sea of dancers. The music changed to something a bit faster.

“What the fuck?” Louis said, eyes still searching after him.

“Lou,” Zayn said, and Louis turned to look at him. His eyes were annoyingly knowing. “We don’t have to keep doing this, you know. We can stop. You heard Harry, Niall’s okay.”

“Of course Niall’s okay,” Louis said, a spark of irritation biting at him as he glanced away from Zayn’s eyes. He didn’t like the look in them, not one bit. “Harry had said he likes some new boy, anyway. This is just about fucking Drew up.” His voice was vicious.

“What?” Zayn’s whole face dropped. Louis looked back at him. He raised his eyebrows.

“This is just about fucking Drew up. Zayn, you know tha-”

“No, I mean, about Niall,” Zayn cut him off, a strange look of growing in his eyes. Louis blinked at him.

“Harry said he wanted to ask someone out for Valentine’s Day,” Louis shrugged. He paused. “Guess he didn’t, though.”

“Oh,” Zayn said, and his voice sounded funnily distant as he looked away from Louis, and-

Of all the fucking moments for him to spot them.

Because they happened to be standing still in a mass of dancers and Zayn was  _not_ twirling him and they were  _not_ laughing like they were in love and Louis was frowning and Zayn looked like he wanted to punch something.

“Lost your boyfriend, Lou?” Drew said, his arm tucked around a strong jawed, handsome faced, ruggedly quiffed lad that could only be his date. “Forced to mingle with the riffraff?” His eyes flickered distastefully to Zayn.

Louis saw red, and it wasn’t the lights. He managed to swallow it down, however, because if he wanted this to be affective, he had to play it cool. He had to remain aloof. He grabbed Zayn’s hand.

“This _finely crafted china,”_ he said, voice cool, “is my _date_. So fuck off, Drew.”

To Louis’ surprise, a look of immense astonishment came over Drew’s face, and not the enraged kind like he was hoping for.

“ _Zayn_ is your date?” he said, voice coated in disbelief.

“Yes,” Louis said through his teeth. Honestly, was it that unbelievable that someone like Zayn might want him?

Drew’s surprise faded into confusion as he drew his eyebrows together. “Zayn? Are you sure? I just saw Harry by the entrance. I thought, surely, when you said you had a date-”

“Fuck off, Drew,” Louis interrupted, because fuck, _fuck_ , Zayn was supposed to be his boyfriend, _Zayn_ , and even if _Drew_ thought Harry would have been more believable- _fuck it all._ Fire burned through his veins now, and it was uncalled for, all very uncalled for. Louis wanted to punch the guy in the face.

He fisted a handful of Zayn’s shirt instead, and met his lips.

 

*

 

Harry hadn’t meant to look back.

But Liam was watching, Niall was staring over his shoulder when he found him, a funny expression on his face. So Harry looked back.

His stomach dropped to his toes. That was Drew they were talking to, _Louis_ was talking to, right on the dance floor where Harry had left them. He couldn’t see Drew’s face, but judging by the look on Louis’, it was a most hostile dance.

And no good, absolutely no good, could come from this.

It was a sickening hunch. Harry’s insides felt sour.

“Why is Drew talking to them?” Niall asked him, his voice a mix of curiousness and confusion. “Why were you-”

Niall broke off and grabbed his arm. Harry heard his gasp before it actually happened, and it sounded like his breath had been punched out from the very bottom of his lungs.

Louis pulled Zayn into a kiss, a grand, spectacular kiss full on the mouth that was sure to have teeth clashing and lips on fire and all of Harry’s limbs went numb, positively lifeless, doused in ice cold water that left him feeling a million miles from his body. Louis was kissing Zayn, and it felt endless, infinite, and every millisecond was a fire burning in some distant, far off heart that Harry didn’t want to associate with anymore.

Niall’s fingernails dug into the skin of his forearm, pinpricks on an outer shell that brought Harry a little closer to his body. He might be bleeding.

Louis and Zayn broke apart. The air came rushing back.

The drop of a heartbeat.

“Oh, shit,” Liam said from Niall’s other side.

“It was _fake_ ,” Harry breathed, looking around wildly. “Louis- Louis just _said_. It was supposed to be _fake._ ”

“What?” Niall said, voice sounding distant, as he looked at Harry, eyes wide and cheeks strangely flushed.

“It _is_ fake,” Liam said quickly, looking between them. “I’m sure there had to be a good reason-”

“Like that it _isn’t_ fake?” Harry’s heart was peeling in his chest.

“You know he can be brash-”

“He didn’t have to kiss him!”

“Drew probably said something stupid, Harry, you _know_ Lou-”

“What are you guys _talking_ about?”

Harry and Liam broke off and looked at Niall, staring at them, confusion written clear across his face.

Liam looked at Harry. Harry wanted nothing more than to disappear.

What a fucking mess.

Liam clapped them both on the shoulders. “Okay lads, I think I should talk to Louis and Zayn. If Sophia comes looking for me, tell her I’m gone because you’re all idiots, alright?”

And then he disappeared onto the dance floor. The little fucker.

“I don’t…” Niall said, gaze following him. He looked back at Harry, eyes begging for an explanation, full of confusion and hurt and something akin to the heartache Harry felt reflected in his own eyes.

Which.  Wait.

Niall looked positively destroyed. _Why_ did Niall look upset about Louis and Zayn kissing?

Why…

…Why had his boy been inconveniently asked out after Harry had told him about Louis and Zayn?

Very slowly, something began to dawn on Harry.

Shit.

 

*

 

“The _fuck_?” were the first words out of Zayn’s mouth when pulled back from Louis. His face was glazed in absolute shock, a stray lock hair falling across his eyes.

Louis felt himself blink. “Zayn, I-”

“You know what,” Drew cut in, and they both turned to look at him. Louis had forgotten he was there. Which, was kind of against the point- “There’s some shit going down here, and I really don’t feel like being a part of it.” He was looking at them with a strange look on his face, almost like pity. Louis wanted to shrivel up and die. He tugged on the other boy’s hand. “Come on, Jess, let’s go dance.” The two of them disappeared back into the crowd.

Damn. _Damn._ What the fuck?

This wasn’t at all what Louis had wanted. He felt horrible, all of the sudden, like his internal organs were rotting. He couldn’t bring himself to look back at Zayn.

“Lou,” he was saying, a hand on Louis’ arm. “ _Lou_.”

Louis looked at the ground. His hands felt clammy and he felt hollow and he wanted to leave. “What?”

“Lou,” Zayn said, quieter, on the edge of a sigh, one full of sympathy. Louis didn’t like it. He didn’t _want_ this pity-

“What?” he said again, voice harder, bordering on snappish. He looked back at Zayn.

Zayn paused a moment, gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “What was that?”

Louis wished he had an answer. Everything was just a swirl of too much emotion, and he needed someone else to be angry, upset, _jealous_ , other than himself. But- fuck. Drew didn’t even care.

“I don’t know,” he said, defeated.

Zayn eyed him closely. He didn’t look angry, or shocked, or very much bothered anymore. Just concerned. “What’s going on in your head, Louis?”

Louis swallowed, looking away. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

“ _Fuck_ , you two!”

Liam appeared out of nowhere, a positively wild expression on his face, looking between him and Zayn. “What was that? _What_ was _that_?”

“Is it a crime for two friends to enjoy a bit of tongue?” Louis said without thinking, annoyance prickling at the back of his neck.

“ _Louis_ ,” Zayn groaned, rubbing his forehead.

“Yes, I think so,” Liam said. He crossed his arms and looked at him pointedly. “Especially when Harry and Niall are over there having a fucking conniption fit over it.”

All the annoyance drained out of Louis as dread slowly crept into its place.

No. Oh no.

“Niall saw?” Zayn said in a strangely strained voice before Louis could say anything, peering at Liam, eyebrows raised in distress, like Niall seeing them kiss was a cause for concern, not when _Harry-_

Fuck. Oh fuck.

Harry saw them.

And he was upset. About him kissing Zayn. After he’d just found Louis and made him _assure_ him it was a fake date. After Louis _did_ assure him. And then he kissed Zayn. Harry was _upset_ about it.

An agonizingly odd mixture of warmth and horrified guilt flooded Louis’ chest.

Harry was _upset_.

Louis wanted to rip his hair out.

“It was just a fake kiss,” he said, grasping at salt in water. He looked at Liam. “It wasn’t- we just- Drew-”

“You are an absolute tit,” Liam said, rolling his eyes.  “Just drop the Drew thing, okay? He’s a jerk. Niall’s over him.” His eyes flicked to Zayn. “Beyond over him, I’d say.”

Zayn started. “I- I should talk to him.” Without another word, he shouldered himself off the dance floor. Louis’ eyes trailed after him.

“And you,” Liam said, turning his gaze back on him, “need to talk to Harry.”

He did, didn’t he.

When had he turned into such fucking hot mess?

Louis groaned, rubbing his temple. “ _Shit_ , Liam.”

“Shit indeed,” Liam said solemnly, putting his hands on the back of his shoulders and shepherding him off the dance floor.

 

*

 

Harry stared at Niall, mind whirling.

“It’s Zayn, isn’t it.”

Niall looked at him, face flushing red. “What?” he said, despite the fact that his flaming cheeks told Harry he’d heard him perfectly well.

“Your…the guy that you wanted to ask out. It’s Zayn,” Harry said, a sad lilt to his voice, because this was all such a _mess_.

“What does that matter?” Niall asked, crossing his arms and sounding defensive. A trace of uncertainty lined his eyes, however. He looked nervous as he glanced back at Harry. “You won’t tell him, will you? I- I didn’t know he liked Louis.”

Definitely a big fucking mess.

“Niall,” Harry sighed, wiping a hand over his face. He looked at him through his fingers. “He doesn’t like Louis. They’re on a fake date, okay?”

“What?” Niall said, complete confusion painted on his face. “What the fuck? What are you talking about? That didn’t look fucking fake to me, Harry.”

Niall was right, of course. They’d said it was fake, but- could they have- Harry had seen _The Proposal_ -

“Why would they go on a fake date, anyway?” Niall said, rumpling his eyebrows.

“Drew asked Louis out,” Harry said, because no more lying, no more pretending, no more hiding things. “And he was a dick about it. So Louis asked Zayn out to make him jealous.”

“What?” Niall said, eyebrows raising so high they nearly disappeared into his hair. “What the absolute fuck? That is the fucking stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Harry. I don’t care about Drew! The only reason I ever went out with him was because I had no chance with Zayn! So I could forget about him! But that obviously didn’t work, did it! _I_ was going to ask Zayn out for Valentine’s Day!”

Later, Harry would say it was fate that chose to push Zayn out of the crowd behind Niall at that precise moment.

“What?” Zayn said, eyes round, staring at him from behind. Niall froze. A beat passed.

“Niall?” Zayn said, voice tentative, his eyes careful and only Harry could see both of their faces. Niall stared at Harry, eyes wide and terrified, as if he stood still enough Zayn might not notice him.

“You were going to ask me out?” Zayn said, just beyond Niall’s shoulder. Harry bit his tongue between his lips, feeling like an intruder, but also like if he moved the glass surrounding them might break.

Niall said nothing.

“Niall?” Zayn said again, expression faltering slightly. He’d risen his hand, about to place it on Niall’s shoulder. Harry gave a tiny nod of encouragement. Zayn’s eyes flickered between him and the back of Niall’s head.

He let it fall, grasp light, his fingers gentle. Niall made no move of acknowledgement, eyes still trained on Harry’s, terrified and still. Zayn’s breath rose and fell in his chest.

“I would have said yes, you know,” he said.

Niall blinked.

Another beat passed before he finally broke and he looked around at Zayn, movements stilted and uncertain, turning away from Harry. “What?” he said, voice an octave higher than usual. His eyebrows were nearly one with his hairline.

“I would have said yes,” Zayn said, a fraction more confident now that Niall had reacted, and a fraction more terrified now that Niall was actually looking at him. “If you’d asked me before Louis had – fuck, if you’d asked me _after_ Louis, I would have ditched him for you, Niall-”

“Well _thank you_ , Malik, I love you too,” a loud voice cut him off, sending Harry’s nerves jumping to his throat as he looked up and found Louis and Liam joining their little circle. Louis’ eyes flickered to Harry’s, just for a moment, before he looked away, swallowing and looking strangely nervous, all traces of previous confidence and cockiness disappearing. Harry’s breath left his lungs.

Zayn rounded on Louis.

“I _told_ you not to kiss me, that was part of the deal, remember?” he said. “And that guy you said Niall was going to ask out? That was _me_ , you dick! This whole thing with Drew was useless! “

Louis ran his tongue over his lips, eyes looking glassy and uncertain under the red lighting.  “I’m sorry, Z,” he said. “If I’d known you had a thing for Niall- is that why you wanted to get back at Drew so badly?” He cut himself off, looking at Zayn. Zayn’s face flushed.

“Well- I- he’s a fucking idiot anyway, but-”

He broke off when Niall wrapped his hand around his wrist. Zayn turned his eyes back to him.

“You did it for me?” Niall asked.

“Well yeah,” Zayn said, looking down at Niall’s hand on his wrist, unable to meet his eyes. “I mean, Louis and I both did, but I-” He looked back up and met Niall’s eyes. “Drew was such a dick to you, and I- Niall, I wish you’d never dated him, because you always had a chance with me.” He let out a tiny sigh, eyes imploring. “ _Always_. I just didn’t think I had a chance either. I never made a move because you were always dating other people.”

Niall opened his mouth, then closed it, pressing his lips together. “Fuck,” he finally said, softly, looking at Zayn. They were quiet for a moment, staring at one another.

Finally Zayn smiled, just the tiniest bit. “Do you want to get out of here? Get some food maybe?”

“Ditch this Valentine crap?” Niall said, a grin blooming on his own face. He slid his hand down Zayn’s wrist and laced their fingers together, palm to palm. “Fuck yes.”

They smiled at each other, eyes positively glittering. Harry swore his heart was melting in his chest, seeping through his ribcage.

If only Niall had told him his boy was _Zayn_.

Zayn patted Louis on the shoulder, a kind of ‘it’s alright’ gesture, and Niall whispered, “Good luck, Haz,” as he turned toward the exit with Zayn, winking at Harry. Harry blinked, watching them leave, hands intertwined sweetly between them.

Good luck. Yes. With Louis.

Harry’s hands immediately felt clammy. Thank god Liam was still there.

“Liam!” a female voice rang out suddenly, and Sophia appeared at his side. She wore a stunning red dress and her hair was pulled back half way, falling over her shoulders in waves. She looked beautiful. What was Liam doing with them instead of her, anyway? Harry made a mental reminder to complement her on her dress later. “I’ve been looking for you,” she said. “Hi Harry, hi Louis.” She smiled between them and looked back at Liam. “Had enough time with your lads, then?”

“ _More_ than enough,” Liam said, grabbing her hand. “Let’s dance, babe, I’ve missed you. See you guys later!” He waved as Sophia pulled him back into the crowd, and it almost felt mocking.

Harry chanced a glance at Louis, and he found a scowl on his face, eyes following Liam’s retreating back.

And then he was gone.

Louis’ eyes flickered to Harry’s.

Never, in all the time they had known each other, had Harry felt uncomfortable in Louis’ presence like this. Things had always been so easy; they read each other’s thoughts and finished each other’s sentences. Things had grown so complicated over the last few weeks, and it felt hard and sour in Harry’s stomach.

That’s what happened, he supposed, when _feelings_ got involved.

Louis looked as if he was about to open his mouth to talk, to say something, when the music changed.

 

_“I’ll throw a party in my garden_

_Where I’ll grow a thousand roses_

_To attract a thousand noses_

_In the hopes that yours will be one”_

 

Of course, at this moment, one of the Moon Minders’ songs would choose to play. _Of fucking course._ The tickets sat cold, untouched, in the drawer of Harry’s desk in his room, where he only ever kept old receipts and too many pencils.

The song was upbeat, but sadness collected on Harry’s skin like frost. Louis stood oddly still until finally he sighed, his entire body slouching under some invisible, tired weight, before he looked at Harry and didn’t look away.

“H, we really need to talk,” he said. “But not in here, I can’t- not in here.”

Yes, that was something Harry could agree on. Not in here, because it was one thing to be looking at Louis and to be talking to Louis but to have to hear his music, too? Everything was Louis, just like he’d originally hoped for Valentine’s Day.

Except Louis wasn’t his Valentine. He led Harry out of the dance hall, into the hallway, through the double doors that led to the freezing outside where snow was quietly falling and they didn’t even have coats, for god’s sake, but at least the music fell silent as the doors swung shut.

Louis stood in front of him, nervous and uncertain and shadowed by the light that spilled through the union windows, as if he was _finally_ going to say something-

Harry only had one question.

“Why didn’t you ask _me_ to be your fake boyfriend?”

His voice came out strained and a bit more imploring than he would have liked to let on, but it was all he wanted to know, he just wanted an answer to the question that had been haunting him for _days._

Louis blinked.

“I _did_ ask you to be my fake boyfriend.”

Harry couldn't help it. He rolled his eyes. “You were joking, Louis.”

“I-” Louis broke off, looking away, at the ground, at his feet, where silent flakes were gathering in the thinnest layer of white. His voice came out small. “I was still hoping you’d say yes, though.”

Harry stared, his anger crumbling as his brain began to process Louis’ words, as Louis looked back up, eyes suddenly flashing with an unfamiliar kind of pain. “But how could I be serious, Harry, when I knew you were going out with Jeff?”

What?

_What?_

“What?” he said, confusion flashing through his brain.

“I was _there,_ Harry,” Louis said, looking at him pointedly. “I heard him say you were going to have a real Valentine surprise.”

Harry wasn’t comprehending. What on _earth_ was he talking about?

Louis sighed, frustration laced in his breath, swirling through the air in a puff of white. “‘ _Hersh may just have a_ real _Valentine’s Day surprise.”_ His American accent was, perhaps unsurprisingly, very spot on.

Except, that wasn’t what Jeff had meant at all.

Harry felt his shoulders fall. _“Louis,_ ’ he said, staring at him, voice almost painful in his throat. “Jeff didn’t have a surprise for me! He was talking about my surprise for _you!”_

“What are you talking about?” Louis drew his eyebrows together, looking angry, defensive, all of sudden. “Don’t _play_ with me Harry, I saw those tickets in your pocket. I saw his name on them.”

Harry’s lungs felt small, flooded with too much air.

“And to my favorite band, _honestly,_ Haz, were you _trying_ to shove it in my face?” Louis’ voice cracked oddly, giving way so an entirely different sort of emotion. A strange, creeping horror itched its way up Harry’s limbs as a sudden sheen filled Louis’ eyes.

“I would have _died_ for those tickets, Harry, I would have _died_ , and instead I have to let Jeff take you and I fucking had to ask Zayn to come to this stupid jam with me when last year I was so fucking nervous to ask you for one dance when I was fucking _drunk_ , and it didn’t even matter, nothing I’ve done this year or last year have even _mattered_.”

Louis seemed very, very determined to not look at Harry’s face, but Harry could see the way his eyes swam, glinting in the low light, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides.

Harry didn’t know how to comprehend it all, his head buzzing, because Louis was so, so wrong, and Harry’s internal organs were breaking, disintegrating as he stared at him in disbelief. The snow fell quietly, peacefully between them and it felt all so _wrong._

When Louis spoke again, his voice was softer, laced with a deeper kind of sadness. “I just wish you hadn’t told me I was your favorite. Date whoever you like, but please don’t tell me I’m your favorite if I’m really not.”

Shit.

Shit shit _shit._

Harry’s hands shook. He held them clasped together in front of him, knuckles white and numb against the cold.

Louis thought Harry was _lying._ He thought he was lying when he told Louis he was his favorite. Louis thought he liked _Jeff_ better. Louis thought the tickets were for Harry, _from_ Jeff. Louis thought Harry didn’t  even like him enough anymore to be his _fake_ boyfriend _._

Horrified nausea rolled in Harry’s stomach. He felt freezing, all of the sudden.

“But you are.” His voice felt strained.

Louis finally met his gaze, and his eyes reflected a desperate kind of pain. “Please, Harry.”

The words bounced around Harry’s mind.

_Please, Harry._

Louis didn’t know how much Harry positively fucking _loved_ him.

“ _Shit_.” The word came out of Harry’s lips in a swirl of white air, and suddenly he was reaching forward, hands outstretched, finding the bare warm skin of Louis’ arms.

“Harry-” Louis’ eyes widened as Harry practically fell against him, sliding his arms around him and pulling him close against his body, combining the last of their warmth together.

Louis didn’t exactly melt in Harry’s arms, but he wasn’t resisting, either.

“Louis,” Harry said. _“Louis_ , those tickets were for _you.”_

A beat of silence.

“What.” Louis’ voice was quiet, breath hot against Harry’s ear.

“Those tickets were for _you_ ,” Harry said again, Louis’ hair tickling his lips. His heart began to hammer in his ribcage, his chest swelling, ready to brim over. This was _it._ “I was going to ask you out, to that concert, that night with the Chinese food.” His voice came in a rush. “I had a whole plan.”

Louis pulled away, just slightly, enough for Harry to meet his eyes. They gleamed, a ghostly blue in the darkness. “What?” he whispered.

Harry’s chest felt ready to burst open.

“You weren’t supposed to need a fake date for Valentine’s Day, Lou.”

Louis stared at him. The cold breeze ruffled his hair, quiff softened nearly back to fringe, dusted with snow. The pounding of Harry’s heart in his own ears was deafening.  

 _Say something_ , Harry was just about ready to beg, when finally Louis opened his mouth and sucked in a breath.

“Are you- you’re not, like, drunk, are you?” he said, widening his eyes.

Ouch. _Ouch._

It was like a punch to the gut, Louis’ words, and Harry pulled away, taking a step back. He could feel himself blinking rapidly, staring at Louis and faintly hoping that maybe he hadn’t heard him right, that maybe he’d comprehended his words wrongly.

He could feel every goosebump along his bare skin, all of the sudden, every breath of ice in the air.

 

*

 

Louis knew before the words left his fucking mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.

Harry’s warm hands left him as he took an entire step back, visibly recoiling from Louis. His face crumbled in confusion and sudden hurt, and _fuck fuck shit fucking shit-_

Harry wasn’t lying, _Harry wasn’t lying_ and Louis had to go and fuck it all up because he couldn’t fucking handle his own emotions and let himself see that this was, very truly, going in every direction he never quiet let himself think possible.

Harry rubbed his hand along his bare arms, visibly shivering all of the sudden and Louis felt a physical pang in his chest. He wanted him back, wanted to wrap his arms around him and keep him warm forever and tell him that he’s always, always Louis’ favorite.

And why should he _not_ do that? He swallowed down the last urge of self preservation and took a step forward.

It was a like a kick to his heart when Harry flinched away. His face grew hard. "No,” Harry said. “No, Louis, I’m not drunk. Probably too sober, actually.”

Louis definitely deserved that. “Fuck, Haz, I didn’t mean that.” He ran a hand through his hair, destroying the last of his quiff and he didn’t care at all. “I’m sorry, Harry. Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

Harry was quiet. “What did you mean, then?” His eyes were careful.

Louis’ tongue felt stuck in his throat, blood rushing through his veins a bit too fast and all he could feel was his heartbeat and crushing fear and he had to say it. It had come so easily before, when he’d spoken out of hurt. Now he had to make it better, for the both of them. Harry _wanted_ him to say it.

“I would have liked it a lot,” he said quietly, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking too badly, “if my date wasn’t fake. If nothing was fake, actually. _Fuck_ , Harry.” He looked up at him, throat feeling raw, as if he’d just spoken a lifetime of words in those short sentences. “There’s been no one but you since the day I met you.”

He heard Harry’s breath catch in his throat, eyes widening.

“I’m an idiot,” Louis said. “I’m the biggest fucking idiot and I’m sorry, and I wish your plan had gone right because I want to date the fuck out of you, Harry. I would date you so hard.”

The beginnings of a tiny, goofy smile grew along the curves of Harry’s lips, eyes warming, but he  was still holding his arms around himself, was still shivering, snow tangled in his curls. His bowtie hung around his neck, loose and crooked.  

Louis held out his arms. “Harry- please-”

Harry stepped into his arms easily, melting against Louis’ body like he’d always done, face finding Louis’ neck effortlessly, sweetly, even though he was so much taller.

“It wouldn’t even have been about Drew at all,” Louis mumbled into his hair. It smelled nice, like champagne and that sickeningly sweet strawberry shampoo he always used that Louis pretended to dislike. “And I wouldn’t have asked Zayn to be my fake date and he and Niall would have been fucking two weeks ago.”

Harry giggled against Louis’ neck, low and rumbling and comforting, and Louis felt himself finally relax a fraction. He dragged his finger through Harry’s thick hair, nails gentle against Harry’s scalp like Louis knew he liked it. They were quiet for a moment until Harry lifted his head up, resting his chin on Louis’ shoulder. His arms snuck around Louis’ middle, solid and secure..

“I’m sorry for being an idiot, too,” he said into Louis’ ear. “I should have just asked you. I shouldn’t have taken you and Zayn so seriously.” He paused. “You do know it’s going to take Zayn years to forgive you for that kiss.” There was a smile in his voice.

Louis groaned. “Shut up.”

Harry chuckled softly, and Louis felt himself relax even more. If Harry could laugh about all this already, it was a good sign. A very good sign. Harry fell quiet again before he said, softly, “I should have just told you I wanted to be your real boyfriend when you asked me to be your fake one.”

A surge of pleasure flooded Louis at Harry’s words. _I wanted to be your real boyfriend._

“S’not too late,” Louis said, voice soft.

Harry was quiet for a moment before he began to say- no, _sing_ , Louis realized as Harry’s low voice drifted into Louis’ ear, only loud enough for him to hear, “ _Did you know my favorite song is the color of your eyes?”_

His voice was sweet, slower than the original Moon Minders song. Louis’ breath caught in his throat.

_“Blue as the sea, a million summer skies.”_

_I’d sail them for hours, past dusk and till the sunrise._

_In the hope that maybe you’ll take a glance at me.”_

Harry pulled his head back and met Louis eyes with the biggest, dopiest smile Louis had ever seen on his face. His dimples might hold glitter. He took another breath and sang louder into the air,

“ _So can I be your real boyfriend, Louiiiiiis?”_

He ended the line all dramatic and pitchy, so loud it bounced off the union walls and back into Louis’ ears, he didn’t stop, carrying the second syllable of Louis’ name for another few seconds, until Louis slapped a hand over his mouth and said, grinning stupidly, “Yes, you idiot.”

Harry didn’t even seem to mind when Louis didn’t take his hand off of his mouth right away, just smiled widely beneath his palm, so bright Louis wouldn’t be surprised if light began to peak out from between his fingers. When Louis finally pulled his hand back Harry said, “Did you like my lyric change? I liked it a lot, do you think we could persuade them to sing it that way when we go see them live?”

Right, because they have tickets to a real, actual Moon Minders concert. As in, Louis is going to see them in person, on stage, singing directly into his ears. With Harry beside him, as his very real boyfriend. _Fuck_.

Harry looked at him, smile melting into something just a bit brighter than a star. He leaned in, pressed his forehead to Louis’. “You alright?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“Yeah,” Louis breathed. Harry was so close, his face right _there_ , he could feel his hot breath on his own lips. His knees _might_ have felt a little shakey.“Yeah, just- happy.”

“Me too,” Harry said. He closed his eyes, humming something in his throat, a close-mouthed smile of utter bliss on his lips. “Should have done this last year. Wanted to kiss you so bad, you know?”

“You did,” Louis said, despite himself, thinking of the single, sloppy kiss Harry had left on his cheek when he’d dropped him off at his place last year. A kiss that Louis had thought about far too much about over the last year for it to mean as little as he’d always tried to convince himself it did.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

Harry opened his eyes and pulled back just slightly, a tiny, delighted spark of mischief coming over his eyes and his smile. “ _Do_ you?”

“I don’t know,” Louis said slowly, putting on a show of consideration, even if his heart was beating wildly in his chest. “You might need to _show_ me what you mean.”

Harry’s answering smile was pure, unfiltered sunlight.

“Gladly.”

The air was quiet, then, though the rush in Louis’ ears was _loud, loud, and loud_ ,  and even though it was still freezing, Louis felt nothing but _warm bursting colors and stars_ as Harry’s lips parted his own.

“You make me a sappy shit,” Louis breathed against Harry’s skin when they broke apart. Harry only laughed and leaned back in, and Louis could taste his smile.

 

*

 

“Harry, you _do_ know that this isn’t slow song.”

They stood with their arms around each other, swaying slowly to the fast paced music at Harry’s insistence because he ‘liked being close.’ Harry rolled his eyes, but leaned in to press a smiling, close mouthed kiss to Louis’ lips. Louis had already lost track of many times since they’d kissed since they had gone back inside to dance out the rest of the jam.

The swoop of pleasure and delight every time it happened was something Louis wouldn’t mind getting used to. He wondered how long it would take him not to feel a tiny bit surprised every time Harry did that, every time he kissed Harry’s own lips.

“Of course, Lewis, I do have ears,” Harry said. “Dunno how I’m not deaf, though, considering I live with a very loud _someone_.”

Before Louis could make any kind of objection, Harry leaned in to kiss him again. Honestly, if he kept this up, their flat may just become a very silent place. Unless…

Louis leaned in closer, parting his lips against Harry’s so he wouldn’t pull away. He snuck a hand up the side of Harry’s neck, skin hot from dancing, and wrapped his fingers around a lock of Harry’s hair and gave an experimental tug.

Harry half yelped, half groaned into Louis’ mouth, and Louis pulled back, feeling sufficiently successful and a bit smug. Harry’s eyes glossed over just slightly, mouth hanging open in surprise as he looked back at Louis, and Louis decided they’d definitely have to finish this later.

 _“That’s_ what I thought.”

They both looked up, and a surge of annoyance momentarily overtook Louis’ pleasure as he realize Drew was, once again, invading his space, this time wholly unwanted.

“What, Drew,” he said, impatient. He had more kissing and dancing and sappy new boyfriend things to do with Harry. He was not going to waste this Valentine’s Day any more than he already had.

“When you said you had a date, obviously it had to be Styles,” Drew said, and to Louis’ vague surprise, he simply looked amused.

Louis felt his face flush, not that there was anything to feel very embarrassed about anymore. He felt Harry’s hand slip down and intertwine his fingers with his own. When Louis turned to look at him, he found a smile on his face. Louis felt the tension uncurl in his stomach, a smile nudging at his own lips.

“Obviously,” he repeated. Harry beamed.

Drew glanced between them. “I have no idea what went on here tonight, but for the record, if you think I was fooled for one second into thinking Zayn had a thing for anyone by Niall, well.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I wasn’t aware of it during the whole time we were dating.”

“Duly noted,” Louis said. “Now please, go dance with your date, so I can dance with mine.”

Drew scowled, just the tiniest bit, but disappeared back into the crowd. Louis looked back at Harry. “How come Drew knew about Niall and Zayn and we didn’t?”

Harry shrugged, looking a bit guilty. “We’re crap friends.”

“Well, alright,” Louis said. “I was going to say I was too busy being distracted by you, but that’s true too.”

It wasn’t hard to get Harry grinning again, dimples popping. “We’ll throw them a fabulous wedding to make up for it.”

“I’ll let you cater. You can order Chinese food.”

“Heeey.”

Louis wrapped an arm around him and pressed his lips to Harry’s cheek. Immediately he felt the dimple return.

Slowly, he kissed his way up to Harry’s ear, pushing his curls back so he could murmur, “Hey, Valentine.”

Harry turned his head so Louis met his lips instead. They were smiling. Louis hoped they were always smiling.

 

*

 

The concert had just let out, and Louis was positively _buzzing._ He tugged on Harry’s hand, pulling him into the cool night air, a delicious contrast to the thick smokiness of the concert venue.

“Harry, that was fucking _amazing,_ the best fucking night of my life. I don’t think any night could top this, I really fucking don’t. Did you _hear_ the when they played Frostbitten Heart? They should have played it twice. _fuck_.” Louis’ blood felt like it was on fire, injected with Moon Minders music, played directly into his ears, live. He’d just seen them _live._

He paused, coming to a halt on the pavement and jerking Harry back so suddenly that people nearly walk right into them. He let go of his hand and spun back around. _The Moon Minders_ was spelled in big letters lit up against the building. Louis didn’t want to leave.

“I can’t go, Harold,” he said. “They’re still in there. I can’t just leave.” As if to prove some sort of point, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of the venue, as if he hadn’t already taken about twenty on their way in.

When he turned back around, coming out of his momentary haze, he found Harry just standing there, quiet and looking at him, smiling softly with an expression of such utter fondness on his face it made Louis’ toes squirm in his shoes.

“I- Moon Minders,” Louis said distractedly, as if reminding himself why he was here, because Harry had the power to make him forget he was at the single best event of his life with just a simple _look_.

“Yeah, babe,” Harry said, stepping up to him and reclaiming his hand, lacing their fingers. His touch was warm, and when Harry leaned down to give him a quick kiss it was even warmer. “Glad you liked it so much.”

“ _Liked_ it, fuck, I- ” Louis broke off, trying to find the words. Turned out he couldn’t. “The best night, Harry. The very best. Thank you.” He reached up and kissed him back, harder this time. He’d have to kiss Harry a thousand more times to show the extent of his gratitude. By the beaming smile on Harry’s face when he pulled away, Louis guessed he wouldn’t mind.

“And I need to thank Jeff again,” he said. His breath came out in excited puffs. “I should get him something. A Nando’s gift card. Does he like Nando’s?”

Harry shrugged. “Probably.”

“I’ll get him _two_ Nando’s gift cards. And apologize for every bad thing I’ve ever thought about him.”

“That might take a while.” Harry gave him a wry smile. But he squeezed Louis’ hand, pleased that Louis was warming to his friend so much. He was on fucking _fire_. Fuck, if only he’d known that all the time he spent being jealous of Harry and Jeff, Jeff was only helping Harry get Louis _presents._

“Don’t care. I love Jeff now,” Louis said, pecking Harry’s lips twice.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Do you, now?”

“Yes,” Louis said. He pressed another kiss to his lips. The crowd cleared out around the, bodies filtering out on either side of them, but Louis hardly noticed. “But.”

Harry kissed him back, lips sweet, traces of the drinks they’d had still lingering. “But?”

“But,” Louis said, warm breath ghosting over Harry’s lips. His ears felt muffled, music still washing over him in echos. He kissed Harry again. “You’re my favorite.”

Harry grinned  and sank into his touch, and kissed him again.

 

*

 

 _I think Louis loves you more than he loves me now,_ Harry typed into his phone later with one hand, Louis fast asleep on his chest. He'd been all energy and kisses and loud voices the entire way home, but the moment they stepped into their flat, his promises of 'the best experience of seduction you'll ever have' flew right out the window as he collapsed right on Harry's bed, shoes still on his feet.

 _Knew he'd come around eventually,_ Jeff's message came a moment later.

Harry was tempted to make some sort of joke of offense, but instead he simply typed out _Thanks mate,_ too pleased and content with everything to start some sort of banter, and entirely too sleepy himself. His phone lit up again.

_Can't wait to see what you get my girlfriend for Christmas._

Harry snorted, and Louis shifted on his chest, nosing at Harry's shirt sleepily. "Wasso funny?"

"Nothing," Harry said quietly, setting his phone down and putting his hand in Louis' hair, running his fingers through it soothingly.

Louis opened an eye at him. Harry thought he looked like a drowsy kitten, sweet and rumpled. "Go to sleep, Hazza,” he said sleepily. “Need to make you breakfast in the morning."

That certainly sounded adorable and domestic. Harry was suddenly inclined to fall asleep immediately. "Okay," he closed his eyes, hand still in Louis' soft hair.

The weight on Harry's chest disappeared suddenly, and he felt a pair of warm lips kiss his own. Delight and pure happiness shot down to Harry’s toes.

Louis tucked his head into the crook of Harry's neck, and as sleep overtook him, hazy and warm, Harry decided that this simple moment right here, Louis soft and sweet and lovely against him, was worth everything.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was curious about what would happen if the pair fake dating DIDN'T secretly love each other. I was also curious to use Jeff Azoff as a character. I've never seen him in a fic before. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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